


The Nanny and the Toad

by suchadearie



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 10:00:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 50,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchadearie/pseuds/suchadearie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Gold gets back custody of his son Bae when his ex wife decides to follow her dream and her new lover on a tour around the world. What Gold didn't expect is the nanny that comes with his son. Now he has not only to find a way to bond with his son, but also to figure out how to handle his attraction to Miss French. </p><p>Based on prompts I received on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He was nervous, and he had to tell himself to loosen his grip on his cane, as not to snap his bones just by holding on to the cool golden metal of its handle. Any moment now, Bae would dismount the Greyhound bus, and he would be a father again. Not that he ever stopped being a father, biologically speaking, but Milah had taken their son with her after the divorce and denied him not only custody but also the right of access to his son. If she had not suddenly felt the need to tour the world with the new love of her life, he might not have seen his son until the boy came of age. Even so, he had been on the verge of declining her wish to park the boy with him, just to punish Milah, ruin her plans and make her beg, but the love for his son made him swallow his pride.

 

He waited for the passengers to dismount, though there hardly ever came someone to Storybrooke at the end of the earth. It was as if the little town came only a mile before nothingness on the road through Maine, and no one traveled to nothingness. Today, however, a small brunette climbed out of the bus, hauling a bulky suitcase down to the street before turning to help someone else down the steps, taking a colorful bag before supporting the other passenger with her hand. A boy. Bae.

Gold limped forward, but halted a few steps away from his son, not sure how to proceed. He had imagined this so often, had pictured how his son would spot him instantly and come flying into his arms, but now he was afraid to even call out his name. He had grown so much in the five years he hadn’t seen him. And he had only been a little boy of two when he last saw him. What if Bae didn’t even remember his father? If it had been possible, Gold would have turned and hidden himself away with a bottle of whiskey and a recording of Louis Armstrong on vinyl. But that was out of the question. He took a deep breath, but his voice was hoarse and almost cracked when he called his son.

“Bae.”

The boy turned, and the girl that still held a small bag with some super hero print on it turned with him, but Gold didn’t even look at her. His eyes were fixed on his son.

“Bae”, he said again, and the boy looked at him, unsmiling, and grabbed the hand of the girl.

“Hey”, the boy said, before he bit his lip and cast down his eyes.

God, how he longed for that whiskey. His insides were burning, twisting, as if he was about to vomit. But he gulped down the bile. “Hey, boy. How was the ride?”

Bae didn’t answer. Instead, he huddled closer to the girl he was still holding, as if he was trying to hide in her bright, yellow coat. Gold looked from his son to the girl, helpless and lost, and she had mercy with him. With her hand extended towards him, grasping Bae firmly with the other hand, she stepped to him, a smile on her face that was as warm as the first day in spring after a long and cold winter.

“You must be Bae’s dad. I’m Belle. His nanny.”

Gold felt compelled to take her hand and shake it, even though he was stunned. He didn’t know anything about a nanny. Milah hadn’t mentioned a nanny. Not with one syllable. The girl had a firm handshake, and he held on to her hand much too long. Only when she raised one of her eyebrows and looked down at his hand, he let go of her as if he had burned himself.

“Milah said nothing about a nanny.” His voice was still hoarse, and he cleared his throat to get rid of the scratching. He looked from her to Bae, but the boy had his face still buried in her coat, so Gold was forced to talk to her.

“I hope this isn’t a problem. Milah said you’d be happy to pay the salary. She said she talked to you about it.” She sounded confused.

“Did she, now.” Must be Milah’s special kind of humor. Her way of getting at him.

“Yeah, you know, Bae didn’t want to part with me. And after the move and the change, we thought it might help him to have someone familiar around.”

“Well, it isn’t as if I had much of a choice, now that you’re already here. I hope you’re comfortable residing in the cupboard under the stairs.”

She snorted, and he furrowed his brow. His words weren’t supposed to be funny, but obviously she thought them to be hilarious. Not that he’d really put her into the broom closet, but his guest room was small, and he had not expected her. He pointed the two of them into the direction of his car, and since he was somehow handicapped, it was up to her to carry their luggage. He walked ahead, but he could hear her talking with his son, gently and comforting.

“See, Bae, your dad is alright. He even knows Harry Potter. That’s cool.”

Gold wondered who the hell Harry Potter was. And how he was supposed to ever find a way to talk with his son when the boy just hid himself behind that nanny. But when he opened the trunk of his car and watched her pack the luggage away, he couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t so bad to have the company of another human being, and maybe a little help connecting with his son. That was until she shut the trunk with a bang, cocked her head and looked at him as if she tried to decide if he was a prince or a toad. Well, he knew what he was, so he could save her the trouble of finding it out.

“Well, Mr. Gold, Milah said you’re the biggest dickhead she ever met and I should be careful not to get on your bad side.”

Obviously she already knew he was toad.    


	2. Summer Fair

Gold could have cried, if crying was a thing he did. As it was, he rather took another sip of his coffee, black, bitter and disgusting, and watched Belle dancing with Bae, circling the green grounds where the annual summer fair was held, like a Southern Belle dropped out of a plane and landed in cold and foggy Maine. Bae still didn’t talk with him, not more than the obligatory “hey” in the morning and in the evening. But he talked to Belle – Miss French, Gold corrected himself silently – so he could talk. But it had been a week since his arrival. Surely he should be adjusting to his new situation by now, shouldn’t he? Gold took another sip of coffee before he tossed the paper cup into a trash bin, still half full. It didn’t help that Miss French flitted around his son like a clucking hen. At first he thought it might help Bae, but now it was only annoying. He hardly ever had a chance to talk to Bae without her, and he was afraid of embarrassing himself in front of her. The worst thing was that it wasn’t even her fault. She had really tried to give him space and time with Bae, given him the opportunity to tuck his son into bed, read him a story – obviously Harry Potter was a wizard and the hero of a whole series of books, and Bae loved them almost more than the filthy bear that never left his side – and when Gold remarked that soul sucking wraiths were hardly an appropriate reading subject for a boy his age, Miss French had frowned at him and lectured him on the merits of educating the power of imagination. Whatever. So at first, he thought it was going to be ok. But right the first night he had brought Bae to bed, the boy had cried and had not stopped until Miss French came and rescued him. After that it was impossible to un-cling his son from his nanny, almost as if he was adhered to her with some of the rabbit-skin glue Gold sometimes used in his shop.

It had been her idea to go to the summer fair. Perhaps it would help them to get over some of their distance, she had said. Now she was waltzing the public green space with his son, to the music of the town’s band – not even a particularly talented band, just seven rather undergrown fumblers – while he was watching them from afar. At least Bae had fun. And Miss French too, judging by the way her eyes sparkled and her laugh jingled. He could distinguish her laugh from every other laugh to be heard in the dancing crowd, and that worried him most of all.

When the song ended, she dragged Bae back to him, breathless and with rosy cheeks, and Gold managed to turn his grimace into a halfhearted smile.

“Did you have fun, son?” he asked, but Bae buried his face in the dress of Miss French, at her waist, and Gold was torn between shaking his son and burying his face exactly there, at her waist. He did neither. She gave Bae’s shoulder a gentle squeeze and her fingers played with his curls. His son had so much hair.

“I guess you need something to drink now, don’t you?” She talked to Bae, of course, but Gold would have done anything for a drink. Sometimes he feared this whole situation would turn him into an alcoholic. The boy nodded, and when she gave him her purse and sent him to one of the stalls where they sold lemonade, he scurried off.

“He’ll come around eventually”, she said, when Bae was out of earshot.

“Yes. Because his father is not a complete stranger to him, or the most hopeless failure of a father that ever was.” Gold folded his hands on his cane.

Belle snorted, rather impolitely, and Gold frowned at her. “Is there something you want to say, Miss French?” he asked, and he made sure to give his voice a sharp edge.

“Well, Mr. Gold, all you lack is experience. And maybe patience. At the moment, you’re caught in a dance, and he’s leading. You have to make him come to you.” She said it as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

“I don’t know if you noticed, Miss French, but I’m not very skilled at dancing.” He looked down at his cane, making sure she got the hint. Of course she chose to ignore him.

“Then you need to practice. Lead me.”

Somehow his breath hitched in his throat and made a very ungainly sound there. “What?” he croaked, and sounded almost like the toad he was. And then he almost fainted when she placed her hand on his arm and smiled at him as if he was his seven year old son.

“Dance with me. They play a nice slow song now. It shouldn’t be too hard with your leg.”

Why didn’t the ground just open up and swallow him when he needed it to? He could not dance with the nanny of his son. “Miss French, Bae will…”

She didn’t even let him finish. “He will survive five minutes without me. And he’ll see us on the dance floor.” She dug her nails into his sleeve and dragged him with her, and if he didn’t want to stumble and fall and be the laughing stock of all Storybrooke for the rest of his life, he had to follow her.

“I hope dearly you give me at least the chance to lead” he growled, and she laughed, a throaty sound that stirred him deep inside, where he didn’t want to be stirred, least of all by the nanny of his son. That was exactly what he needed now, to add more drama to his life. But when she placed his hand on her hip and placed hers on his shoulder, and the other over his on the cane, he knew exactly that he would relive this moment over and over in his dreams. She smelled sweet, like spicy tea, and she stepped so close that he hoped he could hold his breath for the next five minutes, or else he would spill himself just from having her so close and breathing in her scent. They didn’t really dance, just sway from side to side, and everything else would have been too much for him to manage.

“You should breathe, Mr. Gold. Unless you want to swoon in my arms.” She smirked up to him, and Gold wondered how she had known. She must have seen his question on his face, because she giggled. “Your face is so red I was afraid you might explode.”

He sucked in air and – without wanting to or having the least idea how it happened – he pulled her closer. “You’re quite naughty, Miss French. I wonder what I should do about that.”

Now it was her turn to flush, and he saw it with a small surge of pleasure. “I’ve been told before I should think before I speak.” She looked down, and her cheeks glowed in an even brighter shade of red now.

“So what do you suggest?” he asked, and he dared to swing her around, in a twirl that brought her back to his chest. For a tiny moment he closed his eyes and dipped his nose into her curls to inhale the scent of shampoo, and of her. She seemed to be a little breathless herself when she answered, and her voice was much deeper than usual.

“As I said. Lead me.”

He was sure then he had died and had found his way into heaven, thanks to some big screw-up in the management. But when he opened his eyes and saw his son standing in front of them, staring anxious at his nanny, he wished he had really died.

“Belle. Is he hurting you?”

Belle squirmed out of his arms and knelt down in front of his son, cupping his cheeks and kissing him. “Oh Bae, why would you think that? We were only dancing!”

“You looked as if you were in pain.”

Gold wished he could see her face. He was more than interested in the look on it. She cleared her throat.

“I was having fun. And, you know, I was still exhausted from the dance with you, so maybe my feet hurt a little bit…”

“Oh.” Bae looked from her to his father, and Gold wished nothing more than to just close him into his arms and holding him until he wasn’t afraid anymore. But he knew his son would probably be even more afraid if he did such a thing. He sighed.

“Miss French showed me how to dance. She wanted to know which one of us is the better dancer.”

“And who is?”

It took Gold a moment to realize that his son was looking at him. That he was talking to him. He gulped down the lump in his throat and ignored the smile that lit up Miss French’s face. “I guess that would be you”, he said. “I’m too old to be an adequate partner for her.”

“Oh.” For a moment his son chewed on his lip, clearly concerned.

“What your father doesn’t know is that age only improves a man. The older he gets, the better are his thinking abilities.”

Gold was not sure if she was making a compliment or insulting him, but he didn’t care.

“That’s good”, Bae said. “Then he’ll be as smart as you some day.”

“Exactly.” Belle grinned at Gold, and he decided that she was really quite insolent. And he came to realize that he liked it more than he should.


	3. Killer Heels

Gold pressed his lips to his son’s forehead and swallowed his tears when the boy put his arms around his neck and whispered “Good night, papa.”

“Good night, son.” He gave the bear a pat on his scruffy head, and Bae smiled. They were not yet as far as to say “I love you”, but it was the second night in a row that Gold was allowed to tuck the boy into bed without the help of his nanny, and this was enough to make him happy. He switched out the light but left the door ajar, so the light from the hallway painted a golden square onto the floor in Bae’s room.

He descended the stairs in his socks, loosening his tie for the first time this day, and for the first time in days he didn’t long for a drink. Since they had been at the summer fair, things with his son had started to brighten up. Things with his son’s nanny, however, were going downhill. Fast. They didn’t really talk about that awkward moment at the dance. But that night, when he was in bed, he was sure to still smell her scent, feel her hair brush over his face, and her words, whispered in a throaty voice, brought him close to losing control. “Lead me” she had said, and his mind created images that were anything but innocent. But he didn’t dare to read anything into those words. They had been talking about dancing. Nothing else. He was her employer, he was old, a toad, and she was so young, full of life…Too young for him. And definitely beyond his reach. He didn’t even dare to take care of his need, afraid he might call out her name in a moment of weakness. She was sleeping only two doors down the hall in his guestroom, blissfully unaware of his state, and there was no need to take this any further. Hopefully, once his son had settled in, he would be able to send her away.

He choked when he entered the kitchen and found her on tip toes, reaching for a glass in one of the upper cupboards, in a state that hardly could be called dressed. Her dress looked more as if she had wrapped herself in a scarf than a real gown. But it were the shoes that killed him. He must have made a sound, because she looked over her shoulder, and a smile lit up her face.

“Oh, Mr. Gold! Bae’s already in bed?”

“Yes”, he croaked, and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “Are you going out?”

She looked down her front, as if she had forgotten about the dress, then smiled again. “Yes, I have a date. I met someone on the summer fair, and he called and asked me out.”

Gold tried to dissect his brain in order to remember with whom she had talked. Whom he had to kill. “And have you decided what you’re going to wear yet?” he asked, trying not to stare at the handkerchief she was wearing right now. Or the skin it revealed. He fixed his eyes on his stove, because it was safest not to look at her at all. But it was hard to keep his eyes on the stove when she chuckled, deep in her throat, and even harder when she stalked closer. He was more than thankful for the stove and the counter between them, because it not only blocked his view on her legs, her delicate feet in those killer heels, but also her view on the sorry state he was in.

“I am already dressed, Mr. Gold”, she said, and he longed to chide her for that lie. But he clamped his mouth shut and counted till three before he responded.

“I thought that’s your underwear.” Ah well, he had tried. But he couldn’t hold back the sneer. He instantly regretted it when her face darkened. She grabbed her purse from the counter and stalked around it, every inch of her oscillating with indignation. She came to a halt in front of him, much to close for him to feel secure, and she poked her finger at his chest as if she wanted to stab him.

“Well, Mr. Gold, you may be my boss, and I may live in your house, but what I do with my time after hours, or with whom, or in which state of clothing, is not your business. Are we clear on that?”

He had to press the answer out between clenched teeth. “Yes. Just make sure Bae doesn’t see you in this special state of dress.”

“You should not turn your son into the same uptight bourgeois that you are.”

She turned around and stalked out, leaving him dumbfounded. Maybe he would have found something to say if her exit had not granted him with a last look at her legs, and more so, her shoes, those heels that bound her ankles with black ribbons and awoke the burning desire to kneel down and kiss those feet. Now he needed a drink, desperately needed it, to wash down the saliva that threatened to drown him.

In the end it was more than one drink, and it resulted in him being hopelessly drunk when she finally came home. He sprawled in an armchair in his living room, brooding in the dark like some Lord in a dark castle, watching the golden square that was the door to the hallway. She didn’t even see him when she walked past the living room door.

“How was the date?”

She flinched, and turned, trying to make him out in the darkness. “Did you stay up and wait for me?” She took a tiny step into the room, and he saw that she still wore those damn shoes.

“Just wanted to make sure you return safe and unharmed.” His speech was a little more slurred than he liked it to be, and he was almost ashamed of himself when she frowned.

“Are you drunk?”

“Would you please take off those shoes?”

“What?”

Gold tried to sit a little more upright, and tried to shove back the fog that clouded his mind, but both at the same time was a bit more than he was able to do at the moment. God, he was lucky if he still had a nanny in the morning, because he was about to ruin it.

“Please take off those shoes. They’re killing me.”

“You are definitely drunk.”

“I am.” He chuckled, because it suddenly seemed to be quite funny.

“Well, if anything, they’re killing me. They’re on my feet, not yours.”

“Take them off.”

He knew he was crossing a line. He knew his tone was too demanding, he knew he gave her an order that was anything but appropriate, and he knew that he probably chased her away and would never see her again. She was already silent for too long, and he was sure she would take the mace out of her purse and give him what he deserved. But then she bent down and plucked at the little bow that tied the heels to her feet, and she pulled at the ribbon, so deliberately slow that he forgot to breathe. The ribbon came off with a whisper, and she grasped the doorframe to keep her balance when she stepped out of the first shoe, then out of the second.

“I hope you’re going to survive now. It would be a pity if I had to look for a new job tomorrow.” And with the grace of a tigress, she turned and stalked away. Gold heard her ascend the stairs, and the door of her room shut with a definite bang. Only then did he realize she had left her shoes behind, placed neatly in the middle of the doorway and mocking him with their emptiness.


	4. The Kitten Deal

“Bae?” Belle called for the fourth time, but the boy was so absorbed in his play he didn’t hear her. Or, what was more likely, chose to ignore her. He was squatting near the bushes that lined the playground and played with sticks and stones. He had built a fort and a bridge, and Belle hated to interrupt him, but they had to get home, or Gold would use their tardiness to hold another lecture about the merits of punctuality. Sometimes she thought Bae’s father had been alone for too long. He had a hard time adjusting to living with a child, and, she suspected, an even harder time adjusting to living with _her_. He was even more uptight when she was around.

It had been shocking to find him drunk when she came home last night from her date – another disaster she didn’t want to think about – but even more shocking to get a glimpse of the man behind the stiff and cold façade he presented usually. It was not so much his behavior that shocked her, or the tone of his voice, at the same time begging and demanding; it was her own reaction to it that made it hard for her to think about their encounter. The rush she had felt, the heat rising along her spine. The want. Yes, she admitted, she had wanted so much more than just take off her shoes. She had felt the same way when they had danced, and she had said the most embarrassing thing then; she was only glad he had not gotten the real meaning behind her words, or had chosen to ignore it.

“Bae!” Now his head jerked up, and he came to her. Not in a straight line, of course, because the playground was much too interesting to be crossed in a straight line. He scurried from one side to the other, examining stones and little heaps of dirt and climbing over the playhouse in the middle, but Belle was confident he’d finally make his way to her. He did, in the end, and she didn’t realize at once that something was not as it should be. Not until they reached the driveway of Gold’s house and Bae hesitated by the first step of the porch, cradling something inside his coat to his chest.

“Everything alright?”, she asked, and she was aware that they were running late and Mr. Gold’s car was already parked in front of the house, and he probably was inside tapping his foot – or his cane – to the floor and rehearsing the lecture he was about to deliver in his head.

“Um…Belle?” His tiny voice wrenched her heart. He was so brave, but he was still a little boy, and even if he didn’t want to admit it, she knew he was terribly afraid half of the time. She descended the steps again and knelt down by his side.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

He chewed his lip and pressed his coat a little closer to his chest. It bulked at the front, and Belle began to suspect that there was something in there he wanted to sneak into the house.

“What do you have in there?” she asked, more curious than stern, but his little face crumbled nonetheless, and his lips started to tremble.

“Promise me not to tell Papa, do you?”

“That depends. Perhaps it’s something he needs to know.”

Bae pondered this for a moment. But whatever it was, it was important enough to agree. He opened his coat a little to reveal a ball of scrubby fur, and at first Belle thought he held a rat in his hands. Then the little thing mewed, and Belle recognized it as a cat. A kitten, to be precise.

“Where did you get this?” She asked, trying not to sound scolding.

“I found it on the playground, in a bag tied to a branch.”

“What?” She couldn’t keep her voice from getting shrill, and Bae flinched. “Sorry, darling. Who would do something so evil to a sweet little kitten?”

“Sometimes someone can’t keep something, even if he wants to, and then he sends it away.”

Belle had to bite back the tears. Of course Bae would feel that way. His mother had sent him away, and even when she hadn’t tied him to a tree and left him to die, he felt abandoned nevertheless.

“Can you help me ask Papa if I can keep it?” There was so much hope in his eyes that she couldn’t say no. Not even when she was sure his father would give her hell for allowing his son to bring home another houseguest.

“Of course. Let’s go inside.”

Just as she had anticipated, Mr. Gold was already pacing the kitchen, waiting for them, and she almost expected steam to rise out of his ears.

“Miss French, are you aware of what time it is?”

“Of course I am. But we had so much fun on the playground that it got a little later. I hope you weren’t worried.” She had not seen him since the night before, as he had been gone already when she had gotten up to make breakfast for Bae and walk him to school, and she suspected that he had wanted to avoid her. Which was fine by her. He looked a little haunted, probably pained by the way he had behaved towards her. Which was also fine.

“Of course I was worried.” He looked a little lost, and Belle pitied him. He was so helpless at being a father. And since he had missed so many years of his son’s life, years in which parents learned to be confident, learned to trust their children and let them wander away a little more each day, he was not good at letting go. He had to know where his son was all of the time.

“Bae wants to ask you something, Mr. Gold.” She nudged the boy gently forwards, and Bae lifted the kitten up and presented it to his father.

“Can I keep it, Papa?”

Belle had to stifle a squeak at the look on Gold’s face. Bae had called him Papa, and for that he could have had a shark as a pet if he wanted to, she was sure of it. But Gold didn’t give in at once.

“Is that a rat?” He folded his hands on his cane and bent a little down to examine the ball of fur that his son held up.

“No, it’s a kitten. I’m going to feed it and it’s going to be my friend and I will read stories to him.”

One of Gold’s eyebrows wandered up, and Belle had to bite her tongue to hold back the giggle that burbled up inside her. He looked adorable, completely lost, almost like a turtle fallen on its back and struggling desperately to get back to its feet.

“Well, you can keep it, if you make a deal with me.”

“Yes, Papa, of course.” The boy looked so solemn, breathing in every word his father said, and trying hard to behave like a responsible adult.

“I want you to promise me to learn everything about what a kitten needs to be happy, alright? You have to know what it eats, where it sleeps and how to hold it properly. We want it to be happy with us. Deal?” Gold had straightened himself and looked at his son with the most serious expression. Belle held her breath, because his father’s face was probably the only thing that kept Bae from hopping up and down and squeaking in joy.

“Deal”, he said, and Belle watched amused how he flitted out of the kitchen and up to his room. Just when she wanted to turn to follow him, Gold’s voice held her back.

“Miss French.”

“Mr. Gold?” There was a tiny twitch in his cheek when she said his name, and Belle wondered what it meant.

“This is going to cost you something.”

“Excuse me?” She was not sure how to react. She was not even sure she understood correctly what he just said.

“No”, he said, clipped.

Oh my, it didn’t get any better. She decided to give him one last chance to explain himself, but he’d better be careful.

“I want you to excuse me. My behavior last night was inappropriate and completely uncalled for. Please forgive me if I made you in any way uncomfortable. It won’t happen again.”

She took a deep breath and relaxed. That was something she could agree to. “Promise?”

“You have my word.” He even bowed a little bit, a ridiculous and hopelessly old fashioned gesture. But she liked it, more than she should.

“Alright. Then we’re even.”

He smiled, and she could see the relief in his eyes, and warmth spreading all over his face. She turned and walked out, and she tried very hard not to be sad about his promise to never again do something inappropriate. And she tried to ignore the flutter in her stomach that his smile had produced. Because, after all, she was his son’s nanny, and he was a toad.        


	5. Cleaning

He made good on his promise. At least he tried very hard to do so, even if it killed him. But worse than the idea of embarrassing himself again was the fear she would just leave him and his son if he didn’t manage to behave. Gold extended business hours in his shop, trying to spend less time at home, even though he realized that this bereft him of his precious time with his son as well. But the best way of avoiding to cross a line again was avoiding her. And it worked, until she cornered him one morning in the kitchen when he was about to leave. She must have gotten up earlier just to catch him, and he couldn’t help but feel like a worm about to get pronged on a fishhook.

“Mr. Gold, I’d like to have a word.” She didn’t sound mad, and he was glad for it. Perhaps she hadn’t even noticed his attempts of avoiding her.

“Yes, dear, of course.” He tried to sound normal as well, but his voice had the trembling edge of a little boy about to be scolded, and he wanted nothing more than just disappear, duck behind the counter maybe. He avoided her eyes and hoped against all odds she hadn’t noticed. Though, she must have been deaf and blind to not notice all the things he didn’t want her to see.

“You know that I’m just the nanny, right? I’m not Bae’s mom, and he needs a parent. He needs his father, but you’re trying to bolt. You’re coming home later each day, and yesterday you didn’t even bring him to bed because you were that late. He’s afraid he gets abandoned. Again.”

Gold nearly winced in shame. Her words hit him hard, and deep, and he was sure the pain in his stomach indicated that an ulcer had just ruptured. But he tried not to show his consternation.

“What do you suggest? I can’t help it that I have to work.” He put his coffee down on the counter, a little post between them to build a barricade. She didn’t even look at his barricade. Instead she raised her brows and tilted her head in a way that reduced him to a little boy again. She was good at this, but then, she was a nanny. She had to be good at scolding.

“Mr. Gold. You agreed to pay me an exorbitant salary without a second guess, although I was ready to negotiate and demanded way more than I usually get. You live in this stunning house full of antiquities and wear only suits, each one of them worth more than I make in a month. You can’t tell me you have to work that long. Cut back your working hours. Your son needs you. And I’d like to have some after hours myself.”

“Are you telling me I could have paid you less?”

“No. Why are you focusing on the wrong part of my speech? Was it too much to take it in one go?” She frowned, and Gold tried not to notice the wrinkles this created on the bridge of her nose, and that it made her look like Bae’s kitten after it fell head down in a bowl of milk. He tried to feel offended, tried to summon the façade of a stern employer. He failed, though. All he could do was stare at her and wait to be rescued out of his loss of words. She sighed. “Just try to be home early this afternoon to spend some time with your son.”

“Will you be there as well?” Wrong question, absolutely wrong question. He cursed himself for letting it slip.

“Only if you want me to. But I could use some time off. Make a trip to the library. Your taste in books is not really compatible with mine.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Grisham? Sparks? Boring. Just saying.”

He blushed, and could do nothing against it. “You found the Sparks?”

“Indeed I did.” There were dimples on her cheeks, and she seemed to try hard not to laugh. Time to get out of this conversation.

“Well, I’ll be here around four, then.” He grabbed his cane that leaned against the counter and stalked out, trying all the way to his shop to decide how he should handle the situation in the afternoon. Give her the afternoon off and spend time with Bae alone? It would be the first time without her around to rescue him – or Bae, more likely – if he screwed up. And he was prone to screwing it up. Epically.

He still hadn’t decided when he came home from work. It was even before four, and clearly they were not expecting him yet. When he opened the door, he was greeted by loud music, and he heard Belle and Bae belt out the song at the top of their lungs. He wanted to just turn around and leave, because he felt like intruding in the life of a happy family. A family that wasn’t his. He choked down the impulse to flee and made his way to the living room, where his son and his nanny were dancing in circles and…cleaning?

“I’m gonna fight for you until we get it right…” Belle sang, loud and flat, twirling around with a mop as dance partner, but she stopped short when she came face to face with Gold. Bae giggled when the last note ended in a croak, but Gold was unable to take his eyes off her, her flushed face and the happiness she radiated. He wanted to take her into his arms and hug her and never let her go, but instead he raised a brow and made a stern face, one he hoped wouldn’t betray his longing.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Bae and I are having a cleaning day.”

“I don’t pay you for cleaning. You’re not my housekeeper. You don’t need to do this.”

“Well, then you should give me a raise, because your house needs cleaning. And I don’t see you swinging a mop.”

“We established this morning that I already pay you too much.”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Maybe. But it’s going to cost you something.” He wanted to bite off his tongue as soon as the words were out. This was not behaving appropriate. He had managed to keep his promise for three days before crossing the line again. Wonderful. She lifted the mop, and he almost expected her to hit him over the head with it, how he deserved it, but instead she just shoved it into his hand.

“You take this. I’m cleaning the windows.”

For a moment he just watched her, dumbfounded, as she took a bucket and a squeegee and mounted a chair in front of one of the windows.

“Don’t be mad at her.” Bae had crept closer and talked in a whisper to his father. “She’s a bit strict sometimes.”

“Oh, you noticed that, eh? I’d say she’s almost draconic.” Gold smiled at his son, whose face was severe as he nodded and chewed his lip.

“Please, don’t fire her. I make her apologize to you.” His son seemed really worried now, and Gold felt a pang in his guts. Bae was so afraid to lose her, like he had lost anyone else. Rage surged through him, but it was directed at Milah, who had not only put him through hell, but was repeating it with their son.

“Don’t worry, son. I’m not firing her. And I make her apologize myself.” He straightened again and looked back to Belle, who was humming again and had not heard his little exchange with his son. She was cleaning the window with a sponge, and water was dripping down and soaking the sleeve of her shirt, making it cling to her skin. All of a sudden, the room seemed to hold a vacuum, as if all air was sucked out at once. Gold didn’t want to watch, wanted to look away as she cleaned the window in circling moves, but at the same time he wished the bucket would fall over and soak her completely. It didn’t, and when she took the squeegee to wipe down the windows, he started to breathe again and remembered the mop in his hand.

He had to put away his cane in order to be able to handle it, but he realized as soon as he supported his weight with the mop, that this was going to end badly. But it was too late, the mop slid away and Gold stumbled and crashed to the floor, accompanied by a anxious squeak of his son and the racket of a tumbling bucket, splashing water and a curse from Belle that was definitely not made to be heard by children.

“Ouch.” For a moment he just lay there, the air knocked out of his lungs and the pain in his hips and shoulder, where he had absorbed the highest impact of his fall, almost blinding him. Then, out of nowhere, water dripped down on his face and Belle filled his vision, her face shocked and worried and…wet. As was her hair. And her shirt.

“Are you alright?” she asked, breathless, and Gold imagined to hear panic in her voice.

“I think I hurt my pride.”

She touched him. Let her palms glide down his arms. Down his torso. His legs. “What are you doing?” he squeaked, and for once in his life he sounded more like a mouse than a toad.

“Sweeping you for injuries, of course.”

“How bad is it?” Bae peeped, and Gold felt warmth spread inside him. His son cared for him.

“I think your dad’s right. He’ll live, and his pride will heal over time.” She grasped his hand and helped him to sit up, and suddenly he found himself facing her chest. And her soaked through shirt. Clinging to her skin.

“What happened to you?” he asked, and fixed his eyes on her face.

“I knocked over my bucket when I came flying to your rescue. Can you stand up?”

He nodded, but he had to hold on to her for support, and when he finally was back on his feet, pain pierced through his hip and he hissed. She helped him to a chair.

“If you didn’t want to clean, you should have said so”, she said, and Gold gritted his teeth for a moment. Her tone was playful, and it made him want to pull her over his lap and very playfully spank her. He concentrated on the pain in his bones.

“Does it hurt very badly, papa?” Bae had come to his side and looked at him with eyes as big as plates.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry, son.”

“I think your dad may need one of your comforting band-aids. Be a good boy and fetch one, yes? The nicest you can find.”

Bae’s face lit up, and he scurried out of the room.

“A comforting band-aid? I don’t even have a gash.” Gold raised a brow, and she grinned.

“Yeah. That’s why it’s a comforting band-aid. I figured, if you are anything like your son, you’ll be glad over a bright little patch to ease your pain and show off how brave you are. He likes them with little dinosaurs.”

“You’re impertinent.”

“And you’re über-touchy.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Gold cleared his throat, and she bit her lip. Before he could think of anything to say that was not another apology, Bae came back, a package with band-aids in his hand.

“I think the one with the bees would be best”, he said, presenting one of the patches to his father.

“That will be perfect to ease the sting. I think you should put it on his forehead. He hit his head with the fall, I think.” Her voice was strained.

Gold bent down to let his son put the band-aid to his face, but he didn’t look away from her face. Only her face. She blushed, and cast down her eyes, and it made heat surge through him and his palms stick with sweat.

“I think I should go, and change…and leave you two to your boy’s day…” She trailed off, and plucked at the wet fabric of her shirt.

“Have fun at the library, dear.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, and he realized that it was not appropriate to use endearing terms on an employee. Especially not while imagining to peel her out of her wet clothes.

“I’ll get a book on cleaning for you. And one on manners.” And she turned and stalked out. When she was out of the door, Bae raised himself on tiptoes to whisper something in his father’s ear.

“Papa, that word she used when you fell…Do you know what it means?”

“I think we have to ask her that. But I don’t think it was a nice word.”

Bae shook his head, his forehead creased in wrinkles. “No wonder she needs a book on manners.”

Gold chuckled, and somehow he could hardly wait for her to return from the library, so he could tell her how smart his boy was.         


	6. How to do words

Spending time at the library was like having an afternoon of heaven. True, it was not really well organized, and the girl at the counter told her it was run by volunteers, but after a while of digging through the shelves, Belle found something she wanted to read, and it was neither Grisham nor Sparks. She still giggled uncontrollable when she remembered Gold’s face when she had mentioned the Sparks. Well, even a man as scary and stiff as he was could dream of a little romance and heartache in his life, couldn’t he?

The black haired girl at the counter smiled at her when she came back with a stack of books to lend.

“So, are you new in town?”, she asked, while checking out the books, but she didn’t sound as nosy as Belle imagined small town folks to be, just friendly.

“Yes. I came here to work as a nanny.”

“Oh, then you have to be Bae’s nanny!” The girl smiled at her even more broadly, and Belle furrowed her brow.

“Yeah…How do you know?”

The girl blushed. “Oh, I’m his teacher. He talks of you all the time.”

Now it was Belle’s turn to blush. As a father, it had been Gold’s job to take care of the registration at school, and she hadn’t met Bae’s teacher yet. But Miss Blanchard seemed to be nice, and Bae never complained about her.

“So, have you made any friends yet?”

“Well, no…not really.” Apart from her date – which she wouldn’t repeat, thank you very much – she had not done a lot of socializing. Miss Blanchard bit her lip and blushed even more.

“I’m sorry, it must be awkward to be questioned that way. I didn’t want to intrude or something, but we don’t have a lot of strangers here, and you surely need some company of your own age. Hiding away with books, a seven year old and…uh, you know who, that will drive you insane.”

“You know who, huh? That bad?”

Miss Blanchard clapped her hand to her mouth and looked horrified. “Don’t tell him that I said that!” she whispered.

“Well, his house is nice. Other than that, there’s not much to say.”

The teacher relaxed a little. “It has a nice color, yes. A bit deceptive. It should be black, with flames painted all over it.”

Belle snorted, and after a moment Miss Blanchard joined her in giggling. She shoved the stack of books over the counter and tilted her head. “You know, me and my friends are going to do a girls night. You could come.”

“But I don’t know anyone there…” But, to be honest, a girls night sounded nice. Relax a bit, and recuperate from the exhaustion of handling her difficult boys all the time.

“All the more reason to join us. I’m sure it will be fun!”

Finally Belle agreed, and she felt more happy on her way home than she had been for days. It would be nice to leave the house and the smothering tension in it for a bit, to have some fun and meet new people. Now she only needed to find a way to get her shoes back, since they had mysteriously vanished. The idea of tormenting him again by wearing the shoes made her all giddy inside, and when she reached home and found him in the kitchen with Bae, sitting in a pile of paper and crayons and plates with pasta and tomato sauce, she blushed violently at the images that flooded her mind.

“Miss French! Did you have a nice trip to the library?” His voice was warm and deep and only added to the heat in her belly.

“Yeah, did you find a book on manners? Papa said you need it dearly”, Bae chirped in, and Gold shot his son an incredulous look. A faint red glow crept up on his neck, and Belle couldn’t keep herself from grinning.

“That’s the kids 101, Mr. Gold. They keep no secrets.”

“I see. I should have known.”

“Do you wanna see the pictures I painted?” Bae started to rummage around in the pile of paper and produced several paintings. “Look, that’s a fish, and he’s having a bad day because it’s raining!”

Belle took the painting and tried to find the fish between something that looked like colorful bubbles.

“And this one is us, look! This is you, and papa, and that’s me in the middle.” He pointed the figures out to her, and Belle looked at Gold, who tried very hard to avoid her eyes. But his blush darkened.

“It’s beautiful! But what’s this?” She pointed at something that looked like a red triangle that Bae’s papa held in his hand.

“It’s a rose, of course. It’s for you.” Bae took the painting from her hand and hopped from his chair. “I have to feed Dobby now.” Belle watched him scurry off before she turned again to face Gold.

“So you had fun together?” she asked, and she tried to sound completely normal and not at all as if choking, though her throat seemed to be blocked by something as big as a squirrel.

“Yes.” He rose from his chair and grimaced for a moment. “We made something to eat. There’s some pasta left for you in the fridge.”

“Does it still hurt?” She pointed her chin to his hip, and he rubbed it, avoiding her eyes and clenching his jaw.

“Only a little. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Let me have a look.” She stepped closer and extended her hand to tug at his shirt, but he shied away from her and stumbled backwards.

“It’s only a bruise. Nothing you need to worry about.”

They stared at each other for a moment, silent, and finally Belle let her hand sink again.

“Alright. I’m going out tonight.”

“Again?”

“Do we need to have that discussion again?” she asked, and he had the decency to look ashamed. Good. “I’d like to have my shoes back. It’s the only pair I brought with me that’s suitable for going out.”

His face darkened. “No”, he said, and his face showed a stubbornness she knew only too well from his son.

“Excuse me?” She was torn between anger and a faint curiosity how he planned to get out of this. Clearly he didn’t have a plan, and was shocked at his own answer, because his face drained of color, and his nose twitched like that of an animal that sensed danger. She would have pitied him if she didn’t want to have her shoes back so badly. And if it was only to torture him.

“You gave me those. I can’t give them back without something in exchange for them.”

“Wow, that pawnbroker is implanted really deep in your DNA, huh? May I remind you that I didn’t get anything in exchange for my shoes from _you_ in the first place?”

“It’s not my fault you missed to hammer out a more favorable deal, Miss French.”

She stepped closer, her chin lifted up, stepped so close their noses almost touched. “How about that: You give me my shoes, and I forget that you forgot your promise about proper behavior. Twice.” It came out as a hoarse growl, and he swayed a little, leaning ever so slightly closer. Belle held her breath till she felt like suffocating, and he seemed as unable to breathe as she herself.

The next moment Bae bounced back into the kitchen, and they shied away from each other as if shocked by an electric spark.

“Papa, can I take a bath now? I fed Dobby and cuddled him and now I want to bath!”

Belle was panting, and Gold was not any better. He cleared his throat, and did it again, before he answered his son, and even then, his voice was hoarse and croaking.

“Of course. I’ll be right there to help you.” When Bae scampered out of the kitchen again, Gold turned away and started to clean away the mess on the table, shuffling paper and clattering with crayons. Belle watched him for a while. Then, without another word, she walked out. With or without her shoes, she would have a girls night. Only when she was in her room did she realize how ridiculous and completely unreasonable they both were behaving, and she fell down onto her bed and tried to muffle her hysterical laughter by burying her face in her pillow. She decided to go back down and act like an adult. Use words. But there was no need for it. When she opened her door, her shoes waited for her, with a note rolled up and tucked into one of them.

“Forgive my insolence. Have fun tonight.” Obviously he had come to the same conclusion as she herself. Something was there, between them, and it brought out the worst in them and made them behave like blithering idiots.

 


	7. Karma

 

Belle couldn’t remember when it had been the last time that she had had so much fun. Mary Margaret’s friends adopted her instantly, and after a while, Belle relaxed and enjoyed their girls night. And the drinks. Oh my. When she tried to open the door to Gold’s house, way after midnight, she wasn’t even sure it was the right house. And she hoped that this time, there was no one waiting for her. It would be really bad – really, really bad – if Gold would see her like that. When she finally managed to get inside, giggling at herself, everything was dark, blissfully dark, and she was sure that everyone was asleep. But she had to be certain, so she peeked into the living room before passing it. Nope, the lord of the castle was not brooding in the dark. Then, in a fit of utter genius, she stumbled out of her shoes and parked them neatly – she had to narrow her eyes to accomplish that – in the doorway of the living room. She bit her lips to stifle the laughter, but she could only hold it back for so long before it ruptured in snorting giggles that tickled right beneath her breastbone. God, it was gorgeous to be drunk.

She tiptoed up the stairs, but when she passed the door to Gold’s bedroom, she hit her toe on one of Bae’s toy trucks.

“Fuck!” She clasped her mouth shut and stared horrified at Gold’s door, all the while hopping on one foot, but the door remained closed. Everything was fine. “Wow, Belle, that was close”, she muttered to herself. She had almost reached her room, when a door opened behind her. She pressed her eyes shut and pretended not to be there.

“Miss French.”

Apparently he could see her, even when she closed her eyes. She turned around, opening one eye in the process. He stood in his door, and he was wearing pajamas.

“Of course he’s wearing pajamas, he’s not going to sleep in a suit.” Silly Belle.

“Excuse me?” He stared at her as if she had said something stupid.

“Why? What have you done this time?”

“Are you alright?”

She had to put a hand to the wall to support herself, because suddenly her world seemed to be flushed down a drain in swirling circles. “I don’t think so.” She gulped heavily. Before she knew how it had happened, he was there and holding her up. Her brain felt weirdly detached from the rest of her, as if floating at least a foot above her, but she smelled his scent of soap and tooth paste, and she could do nothing to prevent her body from sinking against his chest. “I think I may be drunk”, she whispered, and her nose nuzzled in the hollow between his collar bones.

“I’d say that’s a positive.” He cradled her head, and his fingertips scraped her scalp and twirled her curls. “Let me help you into bed, dear.”

“That’s so n-nice of you.” She leaned heavily on his arm and giggled when he limped with her to her room. “Which is not very nice.”

“What?”

“What what?” She had no idea what he meant.

“Nothing, dear.” He helped her into her room, and she fell onto her bed and groaned. “Do you have some water here?” he asked, and she couldn’t even shake her head, because everything was spinning violently. She breathed, in and out, but it didn’t really help.

“Fuck”, she whispered, and she heard him chuckle.

“Manners, dear.”

“Fuck manners. It’s after hours.”

“Tsk. You’ll be terribly ashamed of yourself if I tell you in the morning about this.” He was doing something to her clothes, but she was not sure what it was. It felt nice, though, so she just let him proceed. “Do you have pajamas here somewhere?”

“Nope. I sleep just in my p-panties. And a shirt. I think.” She hiccupped, and it was so funny she had to giggle. He made a choking sound, and she patted his hand on her arm. “It’s ok.”

“What?” Again that question. Heavens.

“I just sleep in my underwear.” There was that sound again. “Almost like a choking elephant.”

He covered her with her blanket, and she heard him chuckle again, but she couldn’t fix her eyes on him. “I’m going to wake you up at six, dear.” Her mattress wobbled violently when he stood up, and she groaned again.

“But why?” Six was much too early. Much too early.

“To see your face. And to tell you about this.”

 _What a prick_. She closed her eyes and waited for the room to stop spinning, and she heard him close the door. She was not entirely sure if she had said the last part of her thoughts aloud. If she had, she really had to apologize…

She felt as if she had hardly slept at all when she opened her eyes again. And she regretted it instantly, because her head felt as if it was about to implode, felt as if wrapped in a ton of cotton wool. It was not a nice feeling, and it only got worse when she looked at her alarm clock. 5.30. Way too early to be even alive. On the other hand, if she got up now, she could take a long shower. She could have all the time of the world in the bathroom, before she had to wake Bae. Carefully testing out the stability of the floor beneath her, she placed first one, then the other foot beside the bed and got up really slow. She had to grab a bedpost, because the room started spinning, but after inhaling and exhaling deeply for a while, the spin came to a halt and the world steadied. She dragged herself to the bathroom and tried to decide in which order she would restore herself: first brushing her teeth, use the toilet, take a shower? Why had it to be this complicated? For a while she just stood in the shower, letting the water thrum on her skull and on her shoulders and waited for herself to feel better. But even after she turned the water off, she still felt awful, so she sat down in the tub and waited some more, closing her eyes and counting to ten. Somehow she must have drifted off to sleep again, because she woke with a start when she heard a splatter of water…and a flush.

“Oh my god.” She scrambled to her feet and wrapped herself into the shower curtain and almost slipped in the tub.

“What the…” That was Gold.

“Oh my god. Did you just…?” She peeked out of the shower, finding him in his pajamas, his cane in his hand and staring at her.

“I thought you we’re already finished in the bathroom…” His voice was thin, strained, and he averted his eyes. Belle looked down and realized in horror that the shower curtain didn’t cover her half as much as she had thought. In fact, the upper half of it was transparent.

“Oh my god.” She covered her breast with one arm, still holding the curtain in place with the other one. “Didn’t it occur to you to knock?”

“I did knock!” he croaked, looking back at her for a split second.

“Don’t you dare to look! Give me a towel.”

He looked around, and she could see his face darken in the mirror over the sink. “There isn’t one.”

“Are you kidding me?” Oh my, her life had just reached a whole new level of mortification. Not only had she witnessed her boss using the toilet, no she had to be naked while doing so…That sounded more like the plot of a very, very bad porn. She couldn’t help but giggle, and when his eyes flashed to her face, she giggled even more, until she saw a tiny grin tug at the corner of his mouth.

“I guess that means I should fetch you one.”

“I guess it does.” The giggling had stopped, but she couldn’t turn her eyes away from him. That smile made him glow somehow, and it was really hard to remember the grumpy and stiff man behind the smile. Also, there was stubble on his face. Stubble. She tried not think about how that stubble would feel on her skin if he was to kiss her now. The thought alone made her prickle, as if she was bathing in champagne. While she waited for him to return with a towel, she looked at her face in the mirror and noticed the telltale red spreading from her chest upwards over her neck and her cheeks. This was no blush of embarrassment. Not that she would tell him this.

He came back, the grin still on his lips, but he didn’t hand her the towel at once. “You know, Miss French, this is probably your karma, telling you not to drink so much next time. And, more important, not to tell your employer what a prick he is.”

“I didn’t…” But she knew she had. She had a habit of commenting her train of thoughts when she was drunk. For everyone to hear. Now her skin seemed to burn in earnest, and she couldn’t blame him for the smirk on his face. He extended the towel, and she ripped it out of his grip.

“Well, what is the truth stays the truth, I’d say.” She let go of the curtain and wrapped herself in the towel, not caring if he was looking or not.

“I see. Well, I’m sorry, then. Next time I won’t impose my prickly presence on you and let you find your way into bed on your own.” He turned around and stalked out, and Belle was too mortified to call him back and apologize. She really had a talent for hurting people, it seemed. Then she remembered the shoes, and she hoped she could make it downstairs before him, to let them disappear, preferably forever. But when she came down, the shoes were gone once more, and in the kitchen awaited her a cup of coffee and a note: “This time it’s forever.”

Well, that would remain to be seen.

  


	8. Dealing for Dinner

 

Gold tried to concentrate on the pocket watch in front of him. It was a piece with intricate details, but one of the stones was lost, and he tried to replace it. But his hands were shaking, and the damn stone just wouldn’t fit. He swallowed the urge to throw his magnifying glass across the room. Instead he put it down and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to get rid of the images his mind taunted him with. She was his nanny. He could not imagine his nanny the way he imagined her, could not do the things he imagined to do. But for the life of him, he could not stop imagining them. Not after this morning.

She was absolutely right, calling him a prick, and he might have admired her for having a spine and not caving in – even though he knew that she just didn’t want to admit she had been wrong – if it weren’t him on the receiving end of her stubbornness. As it was, it stung. He didn’t want her to think of him as a prick. And, he thought, it was totally undeserved. He had never shown her the side of him that others had to deal with. The side that made him feared in town, the side that made people shiver and cross their fingers, so they would never have to deal with him. He was unrelenting. A deal was a deal, and no one ever broke a deal with him. He was not sure if it was luck that she saw him only as the terrified and helpless father, not as the wicked man he was. Though, taking her shoes – again – could open her eyes on that. He had no intention of giving them back.

The doorbell in the front of his shop rang, and before he could rise and go out to face the customer, the curtain that divided the back from the front moved and Belle stepped in.

“Miss French.” He was surprised. She had never before visited him in the shop, and now she walked in as if she was on a mission. Well, she probably was, judging by the determined stare she greeted him with. Her lips were pressed together and there was a tiny crease above her nose that made him smirk. Anticipation surged through him, like it did when he was about to make good on a deal with someone who had not paid the necessary attention to the small print. He loved to screw people over. And she had that look on her face that told him she was desperate enough to ignore the small print. A tiny part of him – or not so tiny, not that he could tell – rejoiced at the prospect of making her pay for being so rude to him.

“Mr. Gold.”

“To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

She frowned. She was not one for flowery phrasing. “My shoes.”

He schooled his expression into one of amazement. A smirk like the one that made his face tingle in its desire to get out would only ruin the moment. “So your shoes walked you here on their own. How peculiar.”

She knitted her brows together, and he could almost see her rethinking her strategy. Yes, it was time to show her how much of a prick he really was.

“I’m sorry I called you…what I called you. And I’m sorry that I lashed out this morning. I felt a bit at a disadvantage, given my state of undressing and you trolling the bathroom…”

“Is this meant to be an apology? It doesn’t sound like one. I think you should practice that.” His mind conjured several images of him lecturing her on proper ways of apologizing, but he shoved them back. He wanted to torment her, not himself. Her face darkened even more, and he wondered if she could see his thoughts on his face. He hoped not.

“Well, you have no right to keep my shoes. I didn’t give them to you this time.”

“Then you should have taken them to your room, instead of placing them in the living room where I was bound to stumble over them. I could have injured myself.”

She took a few steps into the room, and even in the dim light of his working room he could see the red creeping up her neck. Well, he never intended on making it easy for her.

“Mr. Gold, I’m really sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

He took his cane and rose. He had to bring more distance between them, because he felt as if he was unable to breathe with her too close. And having her close only intensified the fantasies his mind created.

“You didn’t hurt my feelings.” His voice was strained. Too strained to sound natural, and he cursed himself.

“Of course not, no. That’s not even possible, since you have no feelings, right? You’re just as cold as you want everyone to believe you are.” She cocked her head. “That’s nonsense. Everyone has feelings, and no one wants to be called an ass.”

“You really need practice, dear. Your apologizing doesn’t get any better.”

Belle came even closer. And hopped on his desk, sitting there, swinging her legs back and forth and watching him.

“That’s my desk.” He said, and tried to ignore her legs. She wore a skirt that covered her only to her knees, and tights that were nearly transparent. All of a sudden he had forgotten that it was his goal to taunt her. It was only to easy to let himself be tormented by her. Especially when her legs brushed his with every swing, and she looked up at him with her eyes like deep blue ponds in her face.

“I know it’s your desk. I’m not stupid.” She smiled. No, grinned. Smirked.

“You can’t sit on my desk.”

“Well, I’m doing it right now. And it doesn’t even feel bad. Huh.” She looked down at the table top and creased her forehead. Maybe she was trying to distract him, to get him to accept her stupid apology for something even more stupid just to get back what was now rightfully his. He tore away his gaze from her legs and fixed it on her face. Oh yes, she was doing this on purpose.

“Is there a point to this argument?”

“Give me back my shoes. Unless of course you want to borrow them. Maybe you need some shoes to fit your suit on a gala or something.”

“Only with you in them.” Once again she had brought him to blurt out something stupid. He wondered how she managed to get his temper to rise and engage in pointless bickering with her.

“Is that the price? That I accompany you to some event?”

“No. I don’t attend festivities.”

“But there is a price?”

She was clever, he had to give her that. She was also insolent and displayed a shocking lack of manners. How could she be a proper nanny if she didn’t even know how to behave herself? “How did you get hired by Milah?” he asked, and the question wiped the smile from her face.

“Do you wanna see my references or what?” She was defensive, and it made him suspicious.

“If you ask me like this…”

She hopped from the table and backed away. Which made him even more suspicious. Belle was not one to avoid a confrontation.

“You know what, you can keep my shoes. I think I need to go and do the grocery shopping, so I can cook something for Bae after school…” She kept talking while she walked backwards, and Gold let her get as far as to the curtain before he interrupted her rambling.

“Miss French” he called, sharp as a knife. She froze, one hand at the curtain. “I’m willing to discuss a deal, regarding your shoes. And my forgiveness.”

“I don’t like the sound of that. It sounds an awful lot like extortion.”

“No, it’s just a deal. You are allowed to decline.”

She bit her lip, one hand at the curtain, and looked as if she was about to bolt. Like any other person he ever struck a deal with. But no other person had him ever so on edge, so eager to see them accept his offer.

“I wanna know what the deal entails before I decide.” At least she was clever enough to ask before she accepted.

“Of course. Well, if you want me to oversee your insolence, you have to tell me exactly how Milah hired you. Tonight, after dinner.” Maybe it was not wise to give her so much time to think, to invent a story perhaps, but he didn’t want to rush her either.

“And then I get back my shoes?”

“This deal is for my forgiveness. The shoes are mine. I want to keep them as leverage.”

She let go of the curtain, and the look on her face was a clear indicator that she didn’t like the deal.

“You don’t get anything out of this deal. The story is really simple, there’s not much to tell.”

“Then what’s the harm in taking the deal?” He dared not to look at her. What if she declined? What if she accepted? He was not even sure he wanted to know the story, because something told him that _not much to tell_ was a lie, and a big one at that.

“Ok. I’ll tell you the story, if it’ll make you happy.” She shrugged. But Gold only dared to breathe again when she walked out of the shop. And he was only a little disappointed that she had missed the detail about the dinner. Of course she assumed it meant their “family dinner”. Now he only needed to find a babysitter for Bae. He had no idea how to do that.      

 


	9. A cold dish

The doorbell rang, and Belle frowned. She didn’t expect anybody, and Gold would hardly ring the bell of his own house.

“I’m going, I’m going”, Bae peeped, and Belle smiled. It was a sad smile, because she was not sure if she would still be his nanny after tonight. All day she had agonized over finding a plausible story – one as far away from the truth as possible – but she had yet to come up with one. And she knew that she better had to be damn convincing, because Gold didn’t take it lightly if someone broke a deal with him. That much her new friends had told her, and even if she couldn’t bring the image they painted of him together with the man she experienced daily, she had no difficulties in believing their stories. He was an ass. He was unrelenting, hard and a stickler for principles. And she suspected that he liked it to make others bend to his rules. And he only needed to call Milah to find out the truth.

“Belle, there’s someone at the door”, Bae yelled.

“Do tell”, she murmured, drying her hands on a towel. She was cooking, but it didn’t look like the meal she was preparing would be able to distract Gold. More likely it would make him even more unforgiving. She sighed, but her breath hitched in her throat when she reached the door and saw the man standing there in the doorway and talking to Bae. He looked gorgeous. Stunning. His eyes met hers and a grin spread on his face.

“You must be Belle.”

“Yeah?”

Bae hopped up and down, bursting with excitement. “Belle, Belle, that’s Jefferson!”

The man grinned even wider and patted Bae’s hair, and even though he couldn’t possibly know this so called Jefferson, Bae’s gaze was filled with utter adoration. Great.

“Well, Mr. Jefferson, how can I help you?” Belle tried hard not to let his smile affect her. If he wanted to sell something, she was the wrong address.

“I’m the babysitter.”

“You’re…what?” She didn’t know anything about a babysitter. But suddenly she remembered the phrasing of their deal: _Tonight after dinner_. He had screwed her over. And she had let him. She stamped her foot in anger, and Jefferson laughed.

“He told me you would react like that.” He produced a paper bag from behind his back and extended it towards her. “That will ease the sting”, he said.

“Is that from him?” Belle didn’t take the bag.

“No, it’s from me. I figured you would want to take revenge.”

“You figured?” Now she took the bag and peeked inside.

“Well, I hoped.”

“Those are shoes. How did you know my size?” She was more and more suspicious about this mysterious stranger. In her experience, there was no such thing as a fairy godmother in real life.

“I told him!” Bae beamed as if it was his birthday and he had gotten the truck he had pined after for months.

“When?”

“When he called earlier. I looked into one of your sneakers.”

Jefferson grinned again, and she started to like his grin. “He’s a very clever boy. Must take after his mom.”

“How did you know about this?” Belle was still not convinced that he really was who he said he was.

“Well, I’m sure Robert would disagree, but actually I’m one of the few people he could call a friend. So when he called to ask a favor, I might have struck a deal…”

“What kind of deal?” Belle clutched the paper bag closer to her chest.

“I persuaded him to tell me everything about his misery.”

Yes, Belle decided, she liked Jefferson. A lot.

“Well, then come in. There’s dinner in the kitchen, so you guys can eat while I’m going to unwrap the present my fairy godmother just sent me.”

Jefferson laughed, but only when Belle was in her room and took the shoes out of their box could she appreciate how much of a fairy godmother Jefferson really was. The shoes were breathtaking, delicate, killer heels with champagne colored lace, and she fell instantly in love with them. They were the perfect torture device. And luckily, she even had a dress that was a perfect match for her new heels. Simple, black and almost demure. Until one turned around and revealed the back, where it was cut out in a triangle right down to the small of the back. Maybe she didn’t need a plausible story to tell. It might suffice to make him choke by just looking at her.

Just when she had squeezed herself into the dress and put on the heels – which were more suited for sitting than walking, honestly – Bae knocked at her door.

“Papa’s waiting for you downstairs. He said he’s taking you to dinner.”

“Did he, now? Well, what do you think? How do I look?” She pivoted in a circle, careful to not lose her balance, and Bae eyed her from head to toe.

“Like a film star. Are you and Papa dating?”

“No! Of course not.”

Bae looked doubtful, but he didn’t say anything more. Belle put on her coat, the black one that covered her to mid thigh. She wanted to cover the nonexistent back of her dress until they arrived at their destination. Vengeance was not only best served cold, but in small bites.

She got the first sweet taste of her vengeance when she descended the stairs and granted Gold a first look at the heels she was wearing. He paled, and licked his lips in an unconscious way that made heat surge through her. This was priceless. He hardly could tear away his gaze from her feet and her legs, and only when Jefferson emerged at his side and clapped him on the back did his eyes fly up to her face.

“Well, I’d say this round goes to her”, Jefferson said, and his grin was broad enough to split his face in half.

Gold narrowed his eyes, and she could see determination form in him. He raised a brow when she reached the last step of the stairs and extended his hand, just like a gentleman. “We’ll see about that”, he said through clenched teeth, and Belle knew it would take more than the shoes to get him down to his knees.

“Don’t look so sour, Goldilocks”, she said, and Jefferson burst out in coughing laughter. He still laughed when Gold led her out of the door, and not even Gold’s gaze – shooting flames and lightning bolts at his friend – could make him stop.

They drove in silence for a while, and Belle needed to work up the courage to say something.

“You tricked me.” Maybe that was not the best start for a conversation.

“No, Miss French, you just didn’t listen carefully enough. It’s a common mistake.” He stared at the street, and Belle did the same.

“So, what is this? A date?” she asked after another while.

“Dinner. Just as I said.”

After that she kept silent until they reached the restaurant _The Three Bears_ and he helped her out of the car. She scrunched up her face when she saw the name. Of course he was unhappy when she called him Goldilocks and he took her to _The Three Bears_. She really had bad luck. But at least he forgot all about that when he helped her out of her coat and got the first glimpse of the back of her dress, that much she could tell by his sharp intake of breath. And when she turned around to look into his stunned face, she almost laughed. _Mission accomplished_.

“You really fight dirty, Miss French. I will hear your story anyway.”

Well, perhaps Mission not so accomplished. The grin that had tugged at her lips was washed away as if he had doused her in ice water. When they were seated, he ordered wine and tapas as a starter, and steepled his fingers.

“Start talking.” There was a sharp edge to his voice, and Belle realized with a start that this was serious.

“I thought you said _after_ dinner.”

“I decided that I want to hear your story now.”

“Well, I’d like to eat first.”

He watched her with a face that didn’t betray his thoughts, and Belle wriggled on her chair. “As you wish”, he said finally, but Belle knew he had seen right through her and detected her insecurity. He had just decided to let her steep in it for a little longer. They hardly talked during their meal, and Belle chewed every bite thrice as long as usually, until her food became a stringy mass in her mouth, almost impossible to swallow. Even so, they finished their meal eventually, and when he poured her another glass of wine, she knew that her time had come.

“Now, Miss French.” It was a command, and one she knew she had to obey.

“Promise me not to get mad.”

“No. No renegotiating and no promises. And why would you think I would get mad?”

Belle bit her lip and sipped at her wine. She needed courage, but the wine didn’t provide any. After a deep breath, she decided to get it over with. “Well, technically Milah didn’t hire me. She doesn’t even know about me.” She held her breath and waited for the explosion to come.

“What?” His voice could have cut through glass. Oh my.

“Well, I met Bae at the Greyhound station. Milah parked him there to wait for his Greyhound, and she didn’t even wait till his bus arrived. He’s old enough to manage that, she told him. When I found him, he was lost and confused and totally helpless. So I decided to go with him and help him. And we became friends and decided to introduce me to you as his nanny.”

Gold looked dumbfounded. Horrified. About to flip his shit.

“You never were his nanny?” He sounded as if he hadn’t breathed in a year.

“Well, technically…no.”

“Stop technically-ing me. Are you saying you’re a fraud?” The look on his face could make hell freeze over. It send a shudder down her spine, and her stomach dropped to the floor.

“Well…” She didn’t know what to say.

“Yes or no, Miss French?” Right at the moment he could have sunken the Titanic with his coldness. He was like a giant iceberg.

“Yes, I suppose…” She swallowed the heavy lump that had formed in her throat.

“Well, in this case I suppose I have to fire you.” He said it free of emotion, and Belle knew that he was dead serious.

He had just terminated her employment. 


	10. Creating a mess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I changed the rating to explicit, though it doesn't apply to this chapter yet (maybe ;])

She looked at him as if he was pointing a gun at her. But she had to know this would happen, right? There was no way he could keep her as Bae’s nanny after she had lied to him from the start. Everything about her was just a big lie. It cost him all his strength to appear calm and unmoved, when he wanted to shout at her, throw things and shake her. She had seen an opportunity, had seen a way to sneak into his life, gather a comfortable position where she was paid an exorbitant sum and silently laugh about her employer for adoring her more than any sane person should adore anyone. And worse, she had made Bae love her. His son, who had been abandoned by his mother, and now _she_ forced him to take away another person his son loved. If Milah ever dared to come near him, he would kill her for leaving his son alone at a bus station. But first he would deal with the woman in front of him.

“You’re firing me?” she asked, and her lips were as white as chalk.

“Indeed I am. Don’t tell me this comes as a surprise.”

She pushed back her chair and stood up, and Gold had to congratulate her silently for swaying as if she was really shocked. She could hire as an actress, if Storybrooke had a theatre.

“Drive me home. I need to pack.”

“Of course.”

She turned around, going ahead and granting him another look at her backside. When they had arrived and he had helped her out of her coat, the look at her back had almost killed him. Now he knew that she must have hoped to distract him, make him soft, pliable. He was an idiot. He was also unable to overcome the impulse to help her back into her coat, and he cursed himself for it, and her for the dirty look she shot at him. And for her scent that wafted to him when she shrugged into her coat. And for the soft skin of her neck that she exposed to him when she looked down. His grip on his cane grew painful, and he closed his eyes and tried to loosen up. Count to ten. Breathe away the urge to smash things with his cane.

They reached his car, and she turned around to face him.

“You’re making a mistake”, she said, and her voice was trembling.

“Get into the car.” He walked to the driver side, eager to bring the car between them. He was not sure if it was to save him from her, or the other way around.

“We need to talk about this. You can’t do this to Bae.”

“Well, I just did. Now get into the car.”

She squared her shoulders and crossed her arms, and this time he was not able to swallow the curse that welled up inside him.

“We need to discuss this”, she said, and he had to hiss his response through clenched teeth.

“We don’t have to discuss anything.”

“So you’re doing this because I _cared_ for your son, and not because you wanted to get rid of me from the moment on we danced?”

“What?” He was sure the bones in his hands just snapped and he had not understood correctly, because who was able to listen when his hand was breaking under the force of a grip?

“You heard me. It’s very convenient for you to just remove the temptation to let someone close. God forbid that you allow yourself some happiness.”

He stared at her, unable to comprehend the meaning behind her words. “Miss French, I’m not removing a temptation from my life – whatever you’re trying to say with this. I’m firing you because you lied to me, and I can’t have that.”

“Of course, no one lies to Mr. Gold. How could anyone get the idea to lie to you just because you aren’t able to handle the truth?” She was stalking around the car, and her heels made clicking noises on the pavement when she came towards him. He swallowed and tore his gaze from her shoes – more like health hazards, really – back to her face. She was seething with rage, and he wondered how she could feel entitled to rightful anger, when she had been the one to do wrong. He swayed back, let himself fall against the car, and placed his cane in front of him to prevent her from coming too close.

“I’m perfectly capable of handling the truth, Miss French, if it is shared with me.”

“Yeah, I can see that. And this has nothing to do with you being too afraid to admit that the possibility someone could actually like you scares you to death.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” It was only a hoarse croaking, and he felt heat creep up his neck and shame gnawing right beneath his breastbone. She turned him into a little boy, and he hated it.

“Right. You have no idea. That’s why you’re holding on to my shoes like a crooked little imp to his treasure. Because you don’t know how to show affection to real people, you take away something of theirs to cradle it and talk to it in your cave.”

“What?” He felt close to despair now. What the hell was she talking about? She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, and when she started talking again, she held her eyes still closed.

“I’m sorry.”

“For lying to me?”

Her eyes flew open. “No you moron, for calling you a crooked little imp!”

He was sure that his frown was irreversible by now, but he was too confused to ever again smooth out his face. “And how exactly is moron better?”

She rolled her eyes at him and made an ungainly sound in her throat, and did something that shocked him down to his bones: She stepped forward and pressed her lips on his and kissed him. She kissed him. _She_ kissed _him_. His knees turned to jelly. She let go of his lips with a plopping sound and stepped back.

“I’m sorry”, she said.

“For calling me a moron?”

“No, you moron, for lying to you!”

He managed to straighten himself, though he instantly missed the support of the car in his back. “Well, I’m sorry dearie, but you are not sorry enough.”

She knitted her brows together, and he could feel the heat radiating around her. She still was angry at him. Why on earth had she kissed him?

“I’m not sleeping with you to get back my job.”

Now he was genuinely shocked. “No, of course not. Why would you assume…I mean, there is nothing you could do to get your job back.” He was sure that this would suffice to dispel any fears she might have. As much as he wanted to pull her back against his body and repeat that kiss, he was not about to call in sexual favors. That she suspected him of doing anything like that nearly killed him, and the bile at the back of his throat threatened to drown him.

She had kissed him because she thought she might get her job back if she was friendly enough.

He stared at her, and her teeth flashed when she bit her lip. She looked as if he had said something utterly stupid, some big ass idiocy, and the longer she looked at him, silent, the more intense the feeling became. He was about to say something, to ask, to beg her to explain, when she finally turned around and walked back to the passenger side of the car.

“Let’s go home, so I can pack my things and remove my pesky existence from your home.”

He felt as if someone had pricked him with a needle, and he was deflating, his life leaving him inevitably. He had done something wrong, but he didn’t know what it was, and the ten minutes of their drive home seemed to last an eternity. A silent and painful eternity. She jumped out of the car before he even came to a full stop, and he winced when she banged the door shut and stormed off to the front door. He followed her slower, hoping that something might have mercy with him and present him with a solution for this mess. But he had no such luck.

She was already up the stairs and in her room when he reached the entrance, and he found Jefferson standing there, looking flabbergasted and a bit like a kicked puppy. Well, Gold suspected that he didn’t look any better.

“What happened? How did you manage to screw it up?” Of course Jefferson assumed that it was all Gold’s fault.

“I fired her.”

“You fired her. Are you insane?”

“And she kissed me.”

Jefferson creased his nose. “Ew. Her taste certainly needs refinement.”

“And then something went terribly wrong and I have no idea what it was.”

Jefferson sighed. “I guess it started to go wrong when you fired her. Why on earth would you do that? She’s perfect. Bae adores her. And you look like a kitten pining after the milk when you look at her.”

“She lied to me. She never was Bae’s nanny to start with.”

Jefferson scrunched up his face and watched Gold slightly cross-eyed. “And no one lies to Robert Gold, pawnbroker and soul monger. I see.” He shrugged and marched back into the kitchen. “I’ll just wait here till she packed her things then.”

“What for?” Gold followed his friend into the kitchen.

“Well, she’ll need a place to stay. She could stay with me until she finds something else.” Jefferson grinned like a wolf, and Gold decided then and there that he would go up the stairs to her room, apologize for whatever he had done wrong and beg her to stay. He would even kiss her feet if he had to. It wouldn’t even be that much of a sacrifice. But heaven forbid that she stayed with Jefferson.

“Out. Go. Now”, he snarled, and Jefferson had the impertinence to laugh.

“I’ll just wait outside then. There’s no way in hell she’ll stay with you.”

“We’ll see about that.”

But when he knocked at her door, he wasn’t sure at all that he could make her stay. Her room was a mess, clothes, books and toiletry scattered all over the place. Her eyes were red, as if she had cried, and that pierced his guts with the force of a harpoon.

“Belle, you don’t have to leave tonight.” He didn’t realize he used her first name until she looked at him, with her tear stained face. She sniveled.

“I don’t?”

“No, of course not. You won’t find a room that late at night in Storybrooke. Wait for the morrow.” Somehow that seemed to be the wrong thing to say, because her face froze. She let out a deep groan and flung something at him, and it hit him hard in the chest and dropped to the floor. Only then did he recognize it as a hairbrush.

“What was that for?”

“You really don’t know? Good Lord, how do you even exist? Why on earth had I to fall for the biggest moron there is? Tell me, do you have a hidden tape somewhere that tells you when to inhale and when to exhale?”

“What?” He stepped into the room and closed the door with his foot. It was as if the closed door suddenly created a vacuum in the room, and she stared at him, her chest heaving with her breath. “Say that again.” God, his voice was hoarse.

“Do you have a tape…” He cut her off.

“Not that.”

“How do you even exist?” Her jaw was set in a stubborn line.

“Not that either.”

Now she stepped to him and pushed him backwards, and her palm shot a bolt of electricity through his chest. He stumbled with his back to the door. “What don’t you understand? That I fell for the biggest prick I ever met? For the asshole who fired me, because no one ever lies to him?”

“Exactly. That.” She was so close now he could feel the air prickle between them. Could smell her heat and her anger.

“Well, I don’t understand that either.” She wanted to turn away, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back, pulled her against his chest and kissed her, hard and deep and more teeth than anything. She melted against him, clung to him as if drowning, and when he wanted to pull back, she didn’t let him and held him in place, her fingers laced into his hair. He made a sound at the back of his throat, a moaning that was more a plea than anything else, a sound so pitiful he winced.

She pulled back. “This is not a good idea.” She looked at his lips, and he felt them prickle from their kiss.

“No, not a good idea at all. I don’t even know what our problem is.” He still held her arm in his grasp, and he couldn’t let go for the life of him.

“You fired me.”

“You lied to me.”

“So what would you like to do about that?” Her voice was deep and throaty and made his stomach drop to his knees. He realized that he was shaking. And that there was too much saliva in his mouth, making his tongue heavy and clumsy.

“ I’d like to make you apologize. I’d like to spank you and make you beg for forgiveness, and I’d like to kiss your feet and beg for your forgiveness at the same time.”

“Oh Lord.” She closed her eyes and let her head drop back, and her nails scraped over his scalp. “We should really talk about our differences”, she whispered. He dipped down his head and pressed his mouth to her throat, open and wet, and she shuddered in his grip and moaned.

“I don’t think that talking will us get anywhere near a solution.”

“Neither will sex.”

He chuckled at her throat, and it elicited another shiver in her. “We could at least give it a try.”

She pressed herself against his body, clung to him for a few seconds longer, before she stepped back, holding him in place with her palm pressed to his chest.

“No”, she said. “We’re not doing this. I’m going to pack up my things and go with Jefferson for the night, and tomorrow you can try to explain to your son why you fired me. If you know it, that is.”

He felt as if she had stabbed him, impaled him on his cane, but he knew she was right. He had created a mess. He had to clean it up again. “As you wish”, he said, but he couldn’t bear to watch her pack, or walk out of the house, or climb into the car with Jefferson. Instead, he locked himself away in his study, with a bottle of whiskey, Louis Armstrong on vinyl, and her black shoes on his desk.

He had screwed it up. Again.  


	11. Starting over

Belle had no idea how to get out of this mess. She knew that her conversation with Gold had been less than ideal, and even recognized that her course of action might not have been the best to go about things. But she resolved at ignoring her part in creating the situation and concentrate on his part.

“But why did you do it?” Mary Margaret asked, and Belle looked down at her iced tea and sighed.

“Bae was so alone. You should have seen him. It was really cruel to leave him there, on his own.”

“She probably didn’t leave him completely alone. Someone on the station must have known about him.”

“Yeah.” Belle took another sip. “Me. I’m a traveling companion for kids.”

Mary Margaret stared at her and seemed at a loss. “But then, why didn’t you tell him? Of course he thinks you have to be shady! Who leaves on a whim in a Greyhound and pretends to be someone’s nanny?”

“Well, he didn’t let me talk.” Belle placed her glass on a coaster and started to pick at a dent in the tabletop. Well, technically she hadn’t let him talk, but somehow she had omitted the details of how exactly she had found Bae. And when their argument was on a roll, the moment to tell him about it was already over. Mary Margaret watched her for a while.

“You know that’s nonsense. Why didn’t you tell him?”

“I thought he’d sent me straight home again. And Bae was so afraid. He didn’t know his dad. He begged me to stay with him.”

“But why didn’t you tell him yesterday?”

Belle stared into her glass and tried to come up with a reason. There was none, apart from her stubbornness, and her idiocy. Of course Mary Margaret was right. Her only excuse was that her brain didn’t work as it should when it came to heated discussions. And to Robert Gold, god damn him.

After she had left his house, Jefferson had taken her home with him, had prepared her tea and had shown her a guest room in his rather huge mansion. Then she had cried until she thought that every single cell in her body must be shriveled like a raisin, dried up and empty.

“You have to tell him.”

Belle rolled her eyes at her friend. As if that would solve her problem. “I think I should rather stay away from him for a while, until he had time to calm down.”

Mary Margaret snorted. “He doesn’t forget and he doesn’t forgive. Better get it over with. Then you can start over. Or maybe go home. You have a home somewhere, right?”

Belle bit her lip and stared at the little dent in the table.

“Belle?”

“Well, I’d rather stay here. Is there no possibility to find a position?”

“With your reputation? Could be hard.”

“What reputation?” Belle asked. He had cast her out the night before. Rumors didn’t spread that fast, right?

“You don’t think he’ll let go of this so easily? You lived with him. You of all people should know that he doesn’t forgive.” Mary Margaret took a sip of her cocoa and tilted her head.

“What do you mean, me of all people? He was nothing but nice…until yesterday.”

“Exactly. Until yesterday. You’re screwed.”

Belle looked down again, and picked at the dent. She felt numb. “No”, she whispered. “He wouldn’t do that.”

Mary Margaret shrugged. “If you say so. If I was you, I’d get as far away as possible.”

Belle frowned. “I stay right where I am. I just need a job and an apartment.”

“Alright, I don’t know why you would stay, but you could take over the library. There is an apartment above it. “ Mary Margaret didn’t meet her eyes, but there was a secretive smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, and Belle smiled back.

“Well, I do love books.” 

***

The apartment was small, but cozy, and Belle liked it. Jefferson, who had hauled her suitcase up the spiral staircase, had cursed, and after looking into the apartment, offered her to stay with him. Again, she had declined. He was nice enough, but the thought of spending her days in company of the one person who knew how heartbroken she really was, didn’t seem like a good idea. Even though she cursed herself for being heartbroken.

“Well, dear Mr. Gold, you don’t deserve my heartache. I can stand perfectly well on my own feet”, she said into the empty apartment, and she squeezed her eyes shut and wished it to be true. And really, how could she be in love with someone who had not the least idea of anything? Every time she thought about that unlucky conversation in the parking lot, she wished herself a hole in the ground to swallow her. She had wanted to tell him that she liked him for himself, that her kiss was not an attempt to get her job back. But he had taken it as exactly that, had thought she wanted to sleep her way back into employment. It was the thought of this that had stopped her from giving in when he had kissed her. And Lord, how hard it had been to say no when all she wanted to do was tear off his clothes. And kiss him. And let him do exactly what he said he wanted to do.

Mary Margaret showed her around the library and explained how they had handled it so far. “I’m glad that someone is taking it over now, because I had hardly time beside school and volunteering in the hospital.”

“What are you, Storybrooke’s angel?” Belle was amazed, and Mary Margaret blushed.

“No. I just…no.”

Belle waited for her to continue, but Mary Margaret frowned and sorted some books into a shelf.

“Is Bae ok?” Belle asked then, and the question almost killed her. Of course Bae was not ok. She had not even had the chance to say goodbye to him, since he had already been asleep when she left. Waking up to find her gone was certainly not helping his fear of abandonment.

“Well, he wasn’t happy, that much I could tell. And he didn’t talk to his father, not when he dropped him off and not when he came to pick him up again.”

Belle had to bite back her tears. Most of all, her heart ached for Bae, the little boy who had suffered so much loss.

She saw him only three days later, when he hopped along the boardwalk from the bus stop after school, and she hesitated only for a second before she slipped out of the library to talk to him.

“Hi Bae!”

He looked at her, and threw himself into her arms, screeching with joy. “Belle! I missed you!”

“I know” she murmured into his hair, and she was glad he didn’t see her tears. “Where are you heading?”

“To papa’s shop. Wanna walk with me?” He watched her with gleaming eyes, and it broke her heart that she had to decline.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Can’t you apologize to papa? I’m sure he hires you again, because he misses you terribly.” Bae tilted his head and looked as if it was the easiest thing in the world to apologize. Belle smiled. In Bae’s eyes, everything was simple.

“It’s not that easy, Bae. And I don’t think your dad will hire me back. He made that very clear.”

“But why not? I thought he likes you.”

“Yeah, but I lied to him.”

“But I made you lie to him, so he should send me away, too.”

“Oh Bae.” He was such a brave little boy, so fierce in protecting what he loved. It wrenched her heart to see him so ready to fight for her. “You should run, before your dad worries where you are.”

He scrunched up his face, and she had to keep herself from pinching his cheek as he snuffled. “He’s always so mean.”

“No, he isn’t. He just doesn’t know it any better.” She hugged Bae for the last time before he hurried off, and she bit the insides of her cheeks to keep herself from crying.

But she didn’t have to wait long for him to come back. It was only two days later that he sneaked into the library and nearly shocked her into stupor by jumping at her from behind a shelf.

“Does your dad know you’re here?” she asked, when she finally could breathe again and he had stopped giggling over the squeak she had given off.

“He knows”, Bae said, but he looked at her as if he was trying to use his Jedi mind-power on her. Belle decided to give him five minutes before either sending him to the pawnshop or calling his father. But there was no need to do either of it, because exactly four minutes and 42 seconds later, his father limped into the library with a look on his face that could make milk turn sour. When he spotted Belle at the front desk, he paled, and came to a staggering halt.

“Miss French”, he croaked, and Belle felt almost pity. “I didn’t know you’re working here now.”

“Well, I need to eat.”

He didn’t come any closer, as if afraid she might tackle him if he gave her the opportunity to do so.

“Have you seen Bae? Someone said he came here…”

“He did.” In fact, Bae was sitting on the floor behind the front desk and looked up to her, as if hoping she wouldn’t sell him out. Gold tilted his head, and the gesture was almost identical to the way his son cocked his head when he was thinking about a problem. Belle felt something inside her belly flutter, and her breath became shallow when Gold slowly walked to the front desk. Each tap of his cane was met by a vigorous beat of her heart.

“I hope he didn’t keep you from working.”

She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Each step that brought him closer to her drained the air of oxygen, until she finally was sure to suffocate when he came to a halt in front of her. She was sure that the smile she forced onto her lips trembled there for everyone to see. He saw it when he fixed his gaze on her lips, and his look set her cheeks on fire.

“He wasn’t bothering me at all”, she said, and her voice almost broke.

“So, where do you hide him?”

“She’s not hiding me!” Bae jumped up, and for a moment Gold looked as if he was about to squeak just as Belle had squeaked earlier. “Don’t be mad at her, she needs this job! I don’t want her to starve!”

Belle bit her lip, and Gold raised his brows, and looked at her as if she had done this on purpose.

“Bae, I’m not going to starve. I only said that to tease your dad.” She took Bae’s little hands and squeezed them gently. “But I’m honored to have someone like you to fly to my rescue, if I need help.”

“Oh. Ok. But if you’re hungry, I can give you some of my cereal.” He leaned closer and whispered only for her to hear: “He bought the wrong cereal. It tastes awful.”

“I’m sorry for that, sweetheart. But I don’t need food, I promise.” She whispered, too, and Bae smiled and nodded. Then he looked at his father, and the smile left his face. Gold pointed at the door, and Bae scuffed out, his shoulders sagging as if he was going to meet his doom.

“I didn’t know he went here.” Gold folded his hands over the handle of his cane, and Belle saw how his knuckles turned white.

“You have to buy honey nut cheerios”, she said.

“Excuse me?”

“They’re his favorites. He doesn’t like cereal with chocolate. Or fruit loops. You didn’t buy the fruit loops, right?”

He stared at her as if she was talking in hieroglyphs.

“You did buy the fruit loops then”, she said.

“Well, they looked…nice.”

“Didn’t you ask him?”

He leaned slightly forward, and spoke through clenched teeth. “He hasn’t talked to me since you’re gone.”

She wanted to say _I told you so_ , but that would have been cruel. Instead, she forced another smile onto her face. “He’ll come around again. Just…have patience.”

He straightened, and frowned down at her. “I thought you left. You didn’t call.”

“I didn’t know I was supposed to call.”

“You aren’t.”

“Why are you so illogical?”

“Why did you lie to me?”

Belle inhaled sharply and rose from her chair. This was the moment when she should tell him that she hadn’t picked up Bae randomly at a Greyhound station. But his clenched jaw and the tiny twitch in his cheek kept her from it. They had seen each other for hardly five minutes, and they were already fighting again. It would make no difference if she told him or not. It wouldn’t get her the job back. Nothing would.

“I think Bae’s waiting for you”, she said, and her voice was hoarse.

“Yes. You’re right.” He looked down at his folded hands on his cane, and he toyed with the ring on his finger. When he looked up again, Belle thought he would say something, anything, that would help them to untangle the situation. But his gaze on her was sad, as if he’d already given up.

“Goodbye, Belle”, he said, and he slowly turned around and walked away.

“Wait.” She left her place behind the front desk when he turned around, and flitted to him. “Bae left his truck”, she said, and extended the toy she had picked up. Their fingertips grazed when he took it from her, and she almost sobbed. She could not let him walk away like that.

“We should meet some time and…talk. Drink a coffee. Or tea, whatever you prefer.” She tried to look straight into his eyes, but she didn’t manage to hold eye contact. She looked down at their hands, their fingertips still touching, and he pulled back his hand.

“Yes. I’d like to do that.”

“Tomorrow?” she asked, and she felt like vomiting at any moment.

“Tomorrow sounds fine.” He sounded just as breathless as she felt, and she managed a quivering smile.

“Then it’s a date. Pick me up at eight?”

He nodded, and turned to walk away. But when he reached the door, he looked back at her, and his smile was impish. “Wear the shoes for me?”

He was out before she could say another thing, but his words left her prickling with heat and her heart beating in her throat.  


	12. Heart or Mind

She needed to call Jefferson. He would help her. He needed to.

“I need another pair of shoes”, she said, and Jefferson snorted into her ear. She checked if there actually had come snot through the phone, but it was dry.

“I only gave you a pair of shoes last week! Why do you need another one?”

“Look, we have a date, and I am broke, and I really, really want to make him suffer, so I need a pair of shoes even more gorgeous than the last one, and you have to provide it, because you are my fairy godmother and you can do magic and your are the only one who knows how to obtain the absolute perfect shoes and…”

“A date like in date date or like in catastrophe and apocalypse like the last time?” Jefferson had used the moment she needed to take a breath to interrupt her.

“Actually I don’t know. I just wanted to talk. But he said I should wear the shoes.”

“Then wear the shoes.” Jefferson chuckled, and Belle frowned into her phone.

“I want better shoes.”

“Those shoes are fucking perfect. But I see, you want to be naughty. Do you want to torture him?”

“I do.” Belle felt herself blush and was glad that Jefferson couldn’t see her.

“Then I’m only too happy to help. I’ll bring them over when I’m on my way to babysit Bae.”

“You really are my fairy godmother!” Belle hopped up and down in joy.

“More like Robert’s nemesis. Do you have something black to wear?”

The dress was the least of her problems. She wanted to keep it simple. After all, they wanted to talk. They needed to talk. And in order to do that, Gold needed all his thinking abilities assembled at the right place. The shoes were only…well, a tantalizing, sweet taste of revenge.

But the shoes were a lot more than that, and as soon as she opened the box and saw them, wrapped in tissue paper, she knew with certainty that Jefferson wanted Gold dead.

“You’re crazy”, she whispered, not daring to even touch them, afraid they might vanish in a puff of smoke. Jefferson laughed, and Belle could tell how very pleased he was with himself. “Where did you get them?”

“That’s my little secret. It’s a specialty of mine to find things far beyond everyone else’s reach.”

“But they must have cost a fortune!”

“That they did. But nothing is too expensive when it comes to crack Robert open and pierce him right through his stone cold, shriveled heart.” He took one of the black lace boots out of the box and turned it around to look at it from all sides. “And those, on your feet, will kill him, at your feet.”

“Are you sure you are his friend?” Belle took the shoe from his hand and let her fingertips glide over the little black bows at its side.  

“I’m most definitely his only friend. Be careful when you climb down that stair. Those are shoes to sit with. They’re not made for walking.” Jefferson winked, and kissed her on the cheek, and when he had left, Belle felt her nerves twisting and knotting up in her stomach. There was a cage of humming birds inside her, and she almost called Gold to cancel.

“Breathe, Belle. We’re only talking.” She tried to calm herself down, tried get rid of the tickling in her belly, but when she was dressed in her black dress – a simple one with an empire waist and a zipper at the back, not too slim, but not too wide either – she was sure she was going to vomit. It was ten minutes to eight, and she decided to go down and put on the shoes at the foot of the stairs, since she wanted to avoid falling and breaking her neck at all costs. And Jefferson was right, the shoes made her absolutely helpless. She was not even sure she would manage to get her ass of the stairs again, where she had sat down to slip into her new boots. “That’s why men love high heels. Renders their prey unable to run away.”

“If you don’t want to talk, you shouldn’t have asked.”

Belle screeched, but could keep herself from jumping up and breaking her ankles in the process. But it was close.

“Mr. Gold, how dare you sneak up on me like that?”

The stairs to her apartment had their own entrance at the back of the library, and Belle had not noticed when he had come in. She should remember to lock that door in the future. Now he had her at the most inconvenient angle, because it was absolutely impossible to raise from the stairs and look at least halfway graceful while doing so. And he knew it, and smirked at her, a smirk that created dimples at the corner of his mouth. Dimples, for Christ’s sake.

“It’s Robert, dear”, he said, cocking his head.

“Well, Robert, would you be so nice as to help me up?” She tried very hard to sound polite. She failed, of course. The dimples on his cheeks only deepened, and his grin sent heat straight into her lower belly. _Talking_ , Belle reminded herself. _First comes talking_.

“Say please.”

 _Fuck talking_. She raised her chin for a fraction and tried to stare him down. “There’s no need to be so cocky, Mister”, she stated. But then, with a small thrill of excitement tingling all over her, she added, “Please.”

He grasped her hand and scooped her up, dashingly, and she stumbled right against his chest. In fact, her nose met his throat rather perfectly, and her lips met the knot of his tie. He smelled like heaven, subtle and fresh, not as if doused in aftershave, and she decided to just stay where she was for another minute or so. He chuckled, and oh, that sent shivers and vibrations all over her. She took a deep breath before she tilted her head, and turned to him. Their lips met, warm and soft, and Belle closed her eyes. His fingertips trailed her upper arm, and he cupped her cheek, cradling her, as I he couldn’t believe she was really there. Belle opened her eyes when he pulled away, and he looked amazed, stunned.

“How did that happen?” he whispered, and Belle giggled.

“Magic.”

He wrinkled his forehead. When he stepped back, it was as if he would only reluctantly let go of her. But then he looked down, and Belle could tell the exact moment he took in her shoes for the first time, because his breath hitched, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down when he swallowed, as if there was too much saliva in his mouth. He swallowed again, and his chest heaved with the deep breath he took in.

“Those are not the shoes I requested”, he rasped, and now it was her turn to smirk.

“It’s not my fault you missed to hammer out a more specific deal.”

“Our deal was fairly specific.” He couldn’t tear away his gaze from her legs, and Belle felt the ridiculous wish to let him kiss her knee. Her thigh. Her shin, and her feet. And her shoes. She wanted him to actually touch her, instead of undressing her with his eyes.

“So, what are you going to do to me, for violating the terms of our agreement?” God, her voice was hoarse. His nostrils flared, and she wanted to push him against a wall and kiss him again. And undress him. Peel him out of that suit. She forgot they wanted to talk. He planted his cane firmly on the ground, and pulled her back into his arms, leaving her breathless again.

“Make a suggestion, dear.”

“I could just give you a kiss.” She looked at his lips. There was a small scar on his upper lip, and she wanted to lick over it. Wanted to drink in his kiss.

“It would take a lot of kisses to make good on this…” But he leaned a little closer, and his lips grazed her cheek, and trailed to the sensitive spot right beneath her ear. She shivered when he blew his breath over her, and she tilted her head a little. She wanted him to kiss her there. But he just whispered into her ear, and his voice vibrated like the purr of a cat on her skin. “Make another suggestion.”  

“We could go upstairs and…drink that tea here…” She gasped when he pressed his lips to her skin and planted little kisses on the side of her neck.

“That is a good suggestion”, he said between kisses, and Belle groaned. They should have started this way. Talking only led to misunderstandings, and fighting. Talking was totally overrated. She turned her head, and buried her face in his hair, raked through it with her fingers and sighed at the sensation. He felt so perfect.

She took his hand and pulled him with her, up the stairs, even if this seemed like an impossible venture wearing the shoes. She trembled when she opened the door to her apartment and pulled him in, fluttered in excitement and anticipation.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked. No, she was not sure. She wanted this, wanted it since their first dance at the Summer Fair, and she was afraid it would never happen if she allowed them to talk. Because when they talked, everything was complicated, and the sparks between them led to fireworks of stupidity. As if their brains suffered an electrical overload with all the tension, and the pheromones jumbled their rationality into a hot mess. So, she was not sure at all if it would not create more problems to do this. If it wouldn’t be more prudent to talk first.

“I want this”, she said, and he pulled her back into his arms and kissed her, with lips and teeth and tongue, wet and deep, and the hummingbirds in her drowned everything with the deafening flap of their wings.

“Um…tea”, she whispered, when they pulled apart to breathe again. He smiled, and followed her into the kitchen, leaning heavily on his cane, as if it was too difficult to coordinate his steps right now. Her whole body prickled, because she knew his gaze was fixed on her legs, on her shoes, as she walked in front of him. She knew how this view made him itch, and she enjoyed it. He stepped behind her when she filled the kettle, and kissed her neck, and let his hands glide from her ribcage down to her waist, to her hips, and she had to grab the sink to keep herself up, because her knees were like jelly.

“Leave the tea for later, dear”, he rumbled against her skin, and Belle shivered. His voice caressed her deep inside, where no touch could reach her. Maybe talking wasn’t so bad after all. He turned her around, pushed her against the kitchen table, and Belle grabbed the edge of the table for support. He kissed her throat, her collarbones, and somehow started to work up the hem of her dress.

“You chose those shoes to torture me, didn’t you?” he asked between kisses, and Belle giggled.

“Did it work?”

“More than you could possibly know.”

“Well, I wanted you at my feet.” She gasped when he bit the crook of her neck then, and licked over the bite.

“You’re as insolent as ever, my dear. You have no idea how much that makes me want to show you some manners.” He pressed his lips into the hollow between her collarbones, and Belle was almost ashamed of the moan that escaped her throat.

“Then show me”, she whispered, with her voice hoarse and throaty.

“God, Belle…” He slipped his hands behind her back and pressed her closer to his chest. “You have no idea how much I want this.”

She was rubbing herself against him like a cat, hungry for his touches, his closeness…She wanted to be so close as to feel his heartbeat on her skin, feel every shiver running over him as if it was her own. But he pulled back a little, and with an impish smile, turned her around, and held her with her back pressed to his chest.

“Bend a little over, sweetheart.” His words tickled over her skin and sent a thrill into her loins.

“Um…do I need a safe word?” She didn’t want to kill the mood, but better safe than sorry, she thought.

“Darling, I’m not going to do anything that inflicts pain…unless you ask me to. But if you want me to stop…say Fruit Loops.” He was stroking her upper arms, and her shoulders, and she just wanted to sink back against him.

“Fruit Loops? Really?”

“Fruit Loops are a no go. You told me that.” He chuckled, and Belle giggled, too. “And I’m capable of learning.”  His fingertips trailed down her spine, and Belle sucked in air when he grasped her hips and pulled her closer. “Bend over.”

This time she did as he told her, and put her forearms to the table. He stroked her sides, and the outsides of her thighs, and Belle stretched into his touch. If she were a cat, she’d have purred and mewed, because it felt so good, and when he started to pull up her dress, she pressed her ass against him and moaned.

“Spread your legs apart for me, sweetheart, please.” He sounded breathless, as if he had been running, and when Belle stepped apart, very conscious about the strain this put on her legs, with the impossible high heels, and the way her ass tipped upwards, he groaned. He bent over her, bent down to kiss her neck, and it made her throw her head back and moan, and rub against him. She had waited for this for so long.

“Please, don’t let me wait”, she panted, and he chuckled, before he started to pull down the zipper at the back of her dress, and kissing every inch of skin he uncovered. He moved back a little, and for a moment Belle felt ridiculous and exposed, bending over the table and waiting for him to take action, but he didn’t let her wait for long. She squeaked when the cold metal handle of his cane made contact with her skin, trailed over the backside of her thigh, from the hollow of her knee up to ass.

“Don’t worry, it won’t stay cold for long”, he said, and Belle closed her eyes. He repeated the process on her other leg, and her thighs started to tremble, from the strain of her position as well as from the sensation. When he reached the top of her thigh, he let the handle wander to the inside, and over her black panties, gently pressing it against her vulva.

“I want to touch you there, sweetheart, with my cane…so that I’ll always think of you, and of this moment, when I put my hand around the handle.” His voice was hoarse, needy, and she rolled her hips and groaned. She needed him.

“Please…” She didn’t even know what she pleaded for, but when he pulled down her panties, and pressed the handle of his cane to her folds, her throat gave off a sound almost like the growling of a bear. She rubbed herself against the metal, almost frantic, working for the release she needed so desperately, and she whined when he took his cane away from her.

“God, Belle, you’re so wet…” He put the cane down on the table beside her, and she saw the handle glistening, coated with her wetness, before he pulled her up and turned her to face him again. Her dress slipped down and pooled around her feet, and with a snap of his fingertips, he opened her bra, leaving her naked in front of him, while he was still fully dressed.

She grabbed his collar, and pulled him closer. “Robert, could you please fuck me already?”

“Tsk. Manners, dear.” He grinned, and he clearly enjoyed having her so wanton.

“I said please.”

“Yes, but _fuck me_? How vulgar.” He grabbed her ass and lifted her up onto the table, and Belle groaned in frustration. He pushed her down with his palm on her chest, right above her heart, and for a sweet moment, he looked as if he wanted to catch the beat of her heart in his palm, bending his fingers around a wave of sound that fluttered over her skin.

“Robert…”

“Yes, dear?” He stroked over her sides again, down to the hollow of her knees, and pulled them up.

“Stop the talking.”

He kissed one of her knees, and then the other, and slid his hands down her calves, to her heels. “Do you know how gorgeous you look, naked on that table, with those shoes, sweetheart?”

“How gorgeous?” She fished for his tie, to pull him closer, but she didn’t get a hold of him. Belle wanted him now, and she did hardly listen to his words anymore.

“Fucking gorgeous.” He caught one of her feet, and stretched her leg up, placed it against his shoulder, and started kissing and nibbling her calf. Stroked her thighs, and then her cunt, let his fingertips flutter over her and made her mew with want. “And so wet…” He dipped his fingers between her folds. Her back arched on its own accord, convulsed, and she was short of sobbing. Her hands were clenched to fists at her side, and she began to hit the table in her frustration. How could he do this to her? Then his thumb circled her clit, and Belle began cursing. And begging. And moaning. And he kissed her high heels. With his eyes closed and so much joy and deference in his smile, that Belle came undone in a sudden climax when he pushed his fingers into her and moved his thumb against her clit while he kissed the arch of her shoe.

She gasped, and panted, when the waves of her climax ebbed away, and only then did he slowly pull his fingers away from her core. And licked them clean while locking eyes with her.

“Oh Lord…”

“You taste like heaven, dear.” He smiled, as if he had bitten into a delicious dessert. “Are you alright?” He helped her to sit up, and now she grabbed him by his suit and yanked him closer, and crossed her legs behind his back.

“What about you?” she asked. He wriggled his eyebrows.

“I had fun, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, right.” Belle hopped from the table, but she had to hold on to him. Her knees had changed their aggregate state to liquid, and she wobbled a bit.

“What are you doing?” He sounded nervous as she fumbled with his belt and started to open his pants.

“Mister, I’m naked. You’re dressed. You do see that there’s something wrong, right?” His pants dropped, and he gulped audibly.

“Belle…you’re beautiful. And I’m an old cripple…” He clenched his teeth when she caressed his hard cock through his boxers.

“I know what you are. Do you see me look away?”

“No.” His answer was only a whisper, and he closed his eyes when she wriggled her hand inside his boxers. And closed it around him. His hips twitched, and a moan came over his lips, the sweetest sound Belle could imagine.

“Is this why you wanted me to turn my back to you? So I couldn’t look at you?”

His eyes flew open. “No…”

“Good. Because I like to look at you.” She pulled down his boxers and freed his erection, beautiful and hard, and he choked when she got down on her knees in front of him.

“Belle, what are you…” He didn’t finish, because a groan deep in his throat broke free when she closed her lips around him. “Good Lord, Belle…” He had to grab the edge of the table for support, and arched his back. Belle pressed her tongue to his shaft, and sucked, and reveled in his uncontrolled gasps and groans. She grabbed his ass, felt his muscles clench in her grip, and she took as much of his cock in as she could without choking. How she loved it to have him this helpless…She pulled back, and he started begging when she licked over the tip of his erection, with her tongue soft and gentle.

“Belle…”

She looked up, and their eyes locked. He was at her mercy, like she had been at his, and she loved it. She loved how he felt under her tongue, loved how she could make him twitch and moan. He trailed her cheek with his fingertips, her jaw, when she opened her lips and sucked him into her mouth again, and he raked through her hair. His palm came to a rest at the back of her head, cradled her, and his legs started trembling violently beneath her palms. “Belle, darling, I’m close…”

She pulled away, and her knees creaked in pain when she wanted to get up. “Help me up, please?”

When she was back on her feet, she pulled him into her arms, and, pressed against him, made him climax with a few quick strokes with her palm. He came with a long, ragged groan, and she felt his seed on her thigh, warm and wet.

“You didn’t have to do that”, he mumbled to her neck, and Belle smiled.

“But I wanted to.” He pulled back a little and looked around.

“Do you have something to, ah, clean this off?”

“It’s ok, Robert. I just hop into the shower.” He seemed really uncomfortable, and Belle felt her heart fly to him. He was ashamed, and there was absolutely no need for it. She fumbled with his hair, and pulled him closer to kiss him. He answered only hesitatingly to her kiss, and Belle sighed. He had been so confident only a moment before. Now, after losing control, his confidence was shaken.

Maybe they should have talked first after all. “I’m sorry for what I did. I should have told you, or at least explained it. I didn’t take off to play nanny for a random kid.”

“I know.”

She narrowed her eyes. After making such a fuss about her lying to him, he dismissed it pretty quickly now… “What do you mean, you know?”

“You didn’t expect me to just let this go, did you? I made some calls. Inquired about you.”    

 “You…what?” He looked at her, unblinking, as if he knew everything about her, every single one of her secrets. Coldness crept in and prickled between her shoulder blades.

“You could have been a wanted criminal, for all I knew. I had to find out. And you didn’t come out of nowhere and just climbed out of that bus, Belle. You have a past.”

She knew she had a past. Everyone did, and most people had one or two things in their past that they weren’t proud of. “So, are you here with me because the results of your investigation are satisfactory to you? Would we even be here if you would have found something compromising in my past?” Her stomach was a tight knot.

“Certainly not.”

At this, the knot inside her exploded and flooded her with ice. “What?”

“Well, if you were a notorious liar, or a fraud, or whatever, I would certainly never again let you near me or my son.” He looked at her as if his words would make sense. As if she should actually understand them, and agree with them. The flesh on her forearms crawled, and her bones hurt as if pierced with rusty nails. No, she was not of the same opinion

 “Go”, she rasped out. “I’m taking a shower now, and when I come back, you will be gone. And I never ever want to see you again.” She didn’t look at him as she stalked around him, unsteady on her heels, and she didn’t care that she was still naked, and he stood there with his pants down. She didn’t want to see the shock on his face, the pain, and she certainly didn’t want to talk about it, so when he called her name, she ignored it. She slammed the door of her bathroom shut with a bang and collapsed on the floor, panting, and fighting the violent sobs that burned beneath her breastbone.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. “Belle? Belle, let’s talk about this. I don’t even know what’s wrong…”

“Go away.”

There was a dull thud, as if he had knocked his forehead against the door. “Belle, please, at least…”

“I said go away.” She took off the shoes and scrambled to her feet. Turned on the water in the shower, so it would drown every other sound. Drown the sobbing she couldn’t hold back any longer and wash away the tears. She had given him every reason to mistrust her. So why did it hurt so much that he did?

She showered long enough to make her skin shrivel at her feet and palms. When she got out of her bathroom again, wrapped in a towel, she was ready to fight.

But he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The shoes are here: http://suchadearie.tumblr.com/post/58240424674/cinderellasyndrome-jimmy-choo-lace-bootie


	13. Tell me

Someone kept knocking at the front door, and no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, it just didn’t go away. After a while, Gold decided to go to the door, open it, and beat that fucking person back to where it came from. It was a Saturday morning, the morning after the most horrible of horrible – yet delicious – dates he ever was on, he had a bloody headache from the whiskey he had downed to dull the pain of that fucking hole in his chest, and some fucking idiot just didn’t stop rapping at his door.

Of course the idiot was Jefferson.

“What do you want?” Gold snarled, and Jefferson looked baffled. He had a paper tray with two cups of coffee in one hand, and a paper bag in the other.

“Er…I have breakfast…and your son? You remember, the boy I watched for you, so you could go on your date with that gorgeous woman, the boy who stayed with me at my place, so you had all night off? Bae?”

“Hi Papa.” Bae peeked out from behind Jefferson’s back, and Gold choked down the curse he was about to throw at Jefferson.

“Hi, son. How was spending the night at Jefferson’s?”

“Cool. We watched Jurassic Park.”

“ _What_?” He would kill Jefferson. Slowly. Or fast. He couldn’t decide right now. His friend – former friend, to be precise – shrugged and grinned.

“I told him to tell you that. Wanted to see your reaction.”

“Are you satisfied now?” It was a gnarl, as Gold was unable to unclench his teeth.

“I thought it would be funnier. It doesn’t look like your date was success.” Jefferson grimaced, and Gold decided to just let him in and get it over with. He limped into the kitchen, followed by his son and his friend. There was still an empty whiskey bottle on the counter, and he wanted to make it disappear before Jefferson got a glimpse of it. He failed, though.

“Robert. Please tell me it didn’t end in a catastrophe like the last time.”

Gold looked at the empty bottle in his hand. Well, there was still a little swig at the bottom, and he put the bottleneck to his lips and downed it. Wasn’t really much. Not enough to make the pain go away.

“Bae, why don’t you go upstairs and unpack, and watch TV, while I find out what happened to your father and who the heck this guy here is?” Jefferson shoved Bae out of the kitchen, and Gold followed him with his eyes. Even Jefferson was better suited to be a father than he was. He was probably better suited to be a man as well. He would not screw up every single conversation he had with a woman. He sank down on a chair and took one of the coffee cups Jefferson had brought. Maybe coffee was not the best thing right now. His head felt as if it was about to explode. Maybe he shouldn’t have downed the entire bottle of whiskey after coming home from Belle. He was not sure, but he thought to remember he had even vomited…

Jefferson came back and pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “There is a plant in your hallway that needs fresh soil. It looks as if it has been sick.”

Yep, he had vomited. Jefferson kept silent for a while, and he seemed to struggle. He could just as well stuff it, because Gold didn’t want to talk about it.

“So, what happened?”

“Nothing happened. I came to pick her up, we talked and somehow I said the wrong thing and she kicked me out.”

“How long did you talk?”

“I don’t know…it were only a few sentences…”

Jefferson raised his brows, and his eyes looked as if they were about to pop out. “And then you came home and got drunk? Didn’t you try to talk it out?”

“She kicked me out. And talking was what ruined it in the first place.”

Jefferson pondered that for a moment. Then he knitted his brows together and eyed Gold with suspicion. “Wait. Didn’t you plan on going to a restaurant? How did she kick you out from there?”

“We never went to the restaurant.”

“The shoes?” Jefferson was thinking much quicker than Gold could at the moment, so it took him a moment to get behind the meaning of it.

“Yes, the shoes. That was your doing, wasn’t it?”

“Well, I hoped it would get you to take a leap. But obviously you leapt in the wrong direction.”

Gold buried his face in his hands with a groan. His eyes were dry, sticky, and he was not sure if he wasn’t about to vomit again. The coffee had really been a bad idea. “I think I wanna die”, he said.

“I’m surprised she didn’t kill you. What did you say, really?”

“I only told her that I knew she didn’t pick up Bae randomly, because I made a background check.”

Jefferson remained silent at this, and when he didn’t say anything, Gold lifted his head and looked at his friend, only to find him looking utterly shocked . “What is it?” he growled, and Jefferson gulped.

“You told her you made a background check on her? After you just had sex with her?”

“Who said we had sex?”

“Robert.”

“Fine. Yes. We had sex, on her kitchen table, and then I told her I made a background check on her, and then she kicked me out. Satisfied?” Gold felt as if he was about to cry. Judging by Jefferson’s face, it was even worse than he had suspected. Why was he such a failure when it came to women? He had not only managed to screw up his marriage, no he had managed to chase away the one good thing that happened to him since his son was born. Though that was partly her fault. Mostly her fault. Yes.

“God, what is wrong with you?” Jefferson shook his head.

“Why is there something wrong with me? It’s not my fucking fault she lied to me.”

Jefferson put his hands up, as if to soothe Gold’s rage. As if there was anything that could soothe his rage. He needed another drink. “I see, touchy subject. How about that: You sober up, and tonight, we go out and find someone, preferably female, to train your communication skills?” Jefferson retreated a few steps, as if afraid Gold might hit him. Wise, really wise.

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, you got bucked off. You need to get back in the saddle.”

“She’s not a horse. She’s not exchangeable.” He buried his face again, but he couldn’t keep out Jefferson’s laughter. Fucking bastard.

“That bad? How did you two survive when she still lived here? I never saw two people with worse communication issues. And I never saw two people so hopelessly mooning over each other.”

“I have no idea.” He began to feel really hopeless. Thinking about it, their communication had failed right from the start. Maybe they just weren’t meant for each other. On the other hand…the sex had been perfect. He looked at his cane, leaning against the counter, and he was sure he blushed. Like a wee fucking school boy.

“You need to practice.”

“Yeah…” Gold didn’t really listen. He longed to take his cane and just hold it. Close his fingers around the handle, feel it getting warm in his grip, and remember the sweet mewing sounds Belle had made when…

Jefferson clapped his hands, and Gold flinched. “Then it’s a deal.”

“What?” He had no idea what he had agreed on, and Jefferson rolled his eyes at him.

“You, me, tonight? Did you even listen?”

“No, of course not. And who is going to look after Bae?”

“Geez, I start to see where the problem is. You just don’t listen. Is it your age? Do you need a hearing aid?” Jefferson hopped back when Gold shot up from his chair, but the dirty grin remained on his face.

***

The moment he entered the bar behind Jefferson, he knew with absolute clarity that this was a bad idea, and the only reason he could ever have agreed to this had to be his hangover in the morning.

“Karaoke? Seriously?”

Jefferson’s face darkened a shade or two, and he shrugged. “Didn’t know that’s today”, he mumbled, but Gold suspected he had known only too well.

“Well, I’m not going to sing, if that is what you’ve planned.” Not even if Jefferson agreed to sell him his first born, hell no.

“Yeah, well, that’s your loss then. Women like men who aren’t afraid of looking like a fool.”

“That’s _their_ problem then. I won’t sing.” He looked around to find a place in a corner, preferably in the dark and far away from any kind of social interaction. Jefferson, however, had other plans. He looked around, and waved at a group of women at the other side of the bar. That was the moment when Gold realized that he was caught in a trap. “You son of a bitch” he gnarled, but Jefferson only grinned, and pulled him to the table where a group of rather terrifying females watched them approach. Shielded in their midst, seething, was Belle.

“Ladies!” Jefferson greeted them with way too much enthusiasm as that their little meeting could be a coincidence, but Gold didn’t care. He had only eyes for Belle, wanted to see her reaction, wanted to find out if this was her plan, her idea. Maybe she wanted to talk again after all? But after a short glance in his direction, she concentrated on Jefferson, and she looked furious enough to lunge at his friend and decapitate him with her nails. This was actually a nice image, and Gold reveled in it for a second. Until the group of women somehow shifted and produced two empty chairs at their table, and Jefferson pulled him down to sit on one of them. Of course it was the one at Belle’s side. He tried to catch her eyes, tried to apologize silently for this inconvenience, but she avoided his gaze as if it was contagious. Bile rose at the back of his throat, and he took a filthy piece of cardboard from the table – obviously the drink menu – and searched for the stiffest drink they had, hopefully enough to revive his hangover from last night and make him drunk enough to survive this hell Jefferson had put him in.

Jefferson had obviously none of Gold’s problems with talking, and somehow – but it escaped him how exactly – his friend managed to charm an entire group of women. Ruby, Mary Margaret, Kathryn…they all seemed captivated.

“Oh, I know, let’s sing the next song together!” Ruby grinned, and Gold wondered briefly if she had somehow more teeth than other humans, until she looked at Belle, her forehead creased, and said, “Apart from you, of course, since you’re not in the mood for singing.”

Belle straightened a bit beside him, and Gold wanted to say something – anything, really, if only there was something to say – but Jefferson prevented him from doing so by clapping him on his back.

“That’s funny, Robert here isn’t in the mood either. I guess we let those two sulk, then.” He was going to kill his friend, as soon as he had a new one, and it would be a long and painful death. The group rose in unison, ready to take the stage, and he looked at Belle, desperately trying to tell her with his eyes that this was not his doing. Still, she didn’t look at him.

“Actually”, she said, and sounded cold and clipped, “I changed my mind. Next song is mine.” And before anyone could hinder her, she climbed onto the stage and took the microphone. Ruby sank back on her chair, looking rather disappointed, and Jefferson grimaced.

“I’m sorry”, his friend said, leaning over to him. “I wanted to give you two the opportunity to talk.”

“You should be sorry.” He glanced at Belle, who stared at the canvas where the lyrics of her song would be projected, and she seemed more than determined to never again look in his direction. “I’m going to fetch a drink. Don’t expect me back.” Gold rose, with his cane clutched tightly in his hand, and made his way to the bar. In his back, Belle started to sing, breathless at first, and rather flat. But he knew she couldn’t sing, and she knew it, too. The fact that she preferred singing in front of a bunch of strangers to spending a minute or two with him alone at a table made his skin crawl. She hated him.

“At first I was afraid, I was petrified…”

Of course it had to be that song. Kick the man who’s already down. Why not flay him, too? He ordered Scotch, and downed it in one gulp. He didn’t go back to the table, not even after her song ended – she was rather certain then she would survive – but stayed at the bar, his back to the stage, and the little group of people, out of which every single person was bound to hate him for a different reason. Not that he cared, at least not about most of them. Actually, he cared only about one, and she certainly hated him most of all. He ordered another scotch, and nearly jumped when a hand landed on his sleeve, gentle and tentative like a bird, ready to fly away at any moment. When he looked up, Belle cocked her head, and what tugged at the corner of her lips could be a smile. Or, just as well, a snarl.

“This was not my idea”, she said, and he would have snorted, if he hadn’t been afraid of startling her and make her flee with that.

“It wasn’t mine either.” He stared down into his glass. If she didn’t want to look at him, he would damn well spare her the trouble.

“So, are you coming back to our table?” she asked, and he glanced over his shoulder to the little group, with Jefferson in their midst, trying so fucking hard not to look conspicuous, not eyeing him and Belle at the bar. He downed his second scotch, and grabbed his cane.

“No, I’m not. In fact, I’m going home.”

She swallowed, staring at the cane in his hand, and he could have sworn she blushed. Well, he was thinking of that moment, too, yesterday, when she had rubbed herself against the handle of his cane, and the thought of it made his hand stick with sweat and his throat dry.

“Belle, we should talk.”

She tore her gaze away from his hand, his cane, and she met his eyes unsmiling, almost sad. “Yes, we should.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you that I made a background check on you.” He really meant it; he was sorry. But her expression froze. Again.

“What?”

“I’m sorry...”

“Do you think it would be ok if I didn’t know you checked out my background?” Suddenly she seemed at least three inches taller, and Gold wanted to hide away. Leap over the counter.

“Belle…”

“Do you think I it would be better if I didn’t know that you’re only willing to spend time with me – and sleep with me, obviously – because you didn’t find out anything incriminating?”

“But you left me no choice…”

“What about trust? You could have trusted me that I would tell you everything you needed to know.” Her bottom lip trembled, and Gold wanted to shake her.

“Trust? How could I trust you? You lied to me!”

She thrust her hands into the air and rolled her eyes. “And we’re back where we started. Don’t you see? This is never going to work.” She pointed at the two of them, and Gold closed his eyes for a moment. She was right. But she wasn’t finished with him. “You could have trusted me that I would tell you what made me lie to you. You could have trusted me that I would tell you every single dirty secret you wanted to know about me, if you just asked.”

“Then tell me your secrets.” He wanted her to keep talking to him, so he would, maybe, understand what her problem was. Their problem. He wanted her to keep talking, so she wouldn’t turn her back on him and walk out of his life and never come back. Because he was pretty sure that a toad like him came only once in a lifetime upon a princess. But she shook her head.

“It’s too late Robert. I can’t trust you that you won’t turn on me if I tell you something you don’t want to know. Something you can’t forgive.”

She was about to turn away, and he searched for something that would hold her back. Something that made her stay with him. “What made you lie to me, tell me.” He had his hand outstretched, wanted to hold her back, but he didn’t dare to touch her. She looked from his hand to his face, and she looked so sad…As if she had long ago given up hope on him.

“You. You were so helpless. Overwhelmed. Bae was afraid, yes, but I thought he would adjust, even when he was heartbroken at the moment. But then I saw you. I just wanted to make sure you would be ok.”

“But you must have had this plan before…You made Bae lie, too.”

“We talked about it when we traveled. I told him it would be fine, and he wouldn’t need me. But he was so afraid. He had never seen you. He didn’t even have a picture of you, for God’s sake. Why didn’t he at least have a picture?” She waited for him to answer, but there was nothing he could have said. He didn’t know it. When he didn’t answer, she grimaced. “However,” she said, “I told him he could give me a secret sign, when he was too afraid…But I would have gone nevertheless. But then I saw you, and you were even more afraid than Bae.”

Gold looked away. He didn’t want to see the pity in her eyes. The pity she had felt for an old man who faced the biggest challenge of his life and was too afraid to do it with open eyes. Pity. The word tasted bitter on his tongue. And the worst thing was that she had turned him into even more of a wreck. He only needed to think about her shoes, sitting on his nightstand, silent witnesses of his degradation. His weakness. He closed his eyes with the memory of how he had let the satin ribbons glide through his fingers, had pressed them to his nose and imagined to smell the scent of her skin on them. How he had turned those shoes in his hands, as if he could bring her back by just staring at them.

“Anything else you want to tell me?” he asked, and it sounded sharper than he had intended.

“I don’t think there is anything you couldn’t find out by yourself. Go for it. You’re good at it.” When she turned around this time, he didn’t hold her back. She stalked away, back to the table, where she was greeted by anxious faces. While he was left alone at the bar. He watched when Mary Margaret laid her hand on Belle’s arm and squeezed gently, and he realized that no one would ever come to him to squeeze his arm and console him. Not in this town, where he was the dark one. Feared. Detested. Not even Jefferson really liked him. Jefferson only wanted to have fun, and it was funny to see the most feared man in town flail at the feet of a nanny slash librarian slash mystery. He closed his fist around the handle of his cane, again remembering _her_ , and limped out of the bar and into the night. He could just as well walk home, where the babysitter, Ashley, waited to get her money and go home.

And when the babysitter was gone, he would make a bonfire in the backyard and burn those shoes, and his cane right with them. Because the only princess he ever met had kissed him, and he hadn’t changed into the prince she hoped for. No, he remained a toad. And the knowledge of that burned in the pit of his stomach.

He was a little ruder to the babysitter than he intended to be, and she told him to never call again when he needed a sitter, but he didn’t really care. After looking briefly into Bae’s room, watch his son sleep for a minute or two, he went to his own room to fetch those damn shoes. He could return them, yes. They would be gone just the same. But deep inside, he knew it wouldn’t be enough. He wanted to destroy them. He needed to extract every single one of his confused feelings, toss it to the ground and stomp on it till it stopped moving. Had anyone told him of the heartbreak he would feel over a nanny, over a girl that had lied to him from the start, something he never forgave, he would have doubled the rent for that idiot.

His boy scout days were long forgotten, and it took him a while to make a fire. He sat in a chair and watched the flames lick the scraps of wood he had put together, bite into them and grow, and he held the black heels in his hands and let the ribbons glide through his fingers, imagining them to bind her ankles, like a lover’s embrace. Like tender bonds. One after the other, he tossed them into the flames and watched them shrivel and crumble. The relief he hoped for didn’t come.

“Are those my shoes?”

Of course she had to turn up right then, materializing in his backyard out of some fucking quirky notion of humor the universe possessed, karma or just pure spite, and witness his decay. He didn’t turn around to where she was standing, a few steps behind his chair.

“What are you doing here? Wanted to gloat over my misery?” He stared into the flames and wished she would just as suddenly disappear as she had materialized.

“Actually, no.” She stepped at his side, and out of the corner of his eyes he saw how she stared into the flames. “I loved those shoes.”

“Pity.”

That made her move, and she stepped into his line of sight, grabbing the armrests of his chair and bending down, bringing her face so close he could feel the heat radiating from her. “Don’t be such a toad”, she hissed, and he laughed, hollow and without humor.

“But that’s exactly what I am, dearie.”

She straightened. Why was she even here? Only an hour or so before, she had looked as if she never again wanted to talk to him.

“I needed some time to think”, she said. “And I realized that you are right. I left you no choice. But I want you to know that I was also right. How could I ever be sure I would be enough for you? Maybe I make another mistake, some time in the future, and you decide that it was one mistake too many? I make a lot of a mistakes. I tend to do things without thinking them through sometimes…”

He snorted. “Sometimes, really?”

“Well, often. Point is, you put me in a place where I was afraid to breathe, afraid you might discover something you wouldn’t like about me. That’s just cruel.”

“Oh Belle…we started it all wrong.” He wished he could go back, change time and place of their meeting. Wished he could change himself.

“I have no idea how we started at all. All I know is that this whole mess is tearing my heart to shreds. I want to trust you, but I want you to trust me, too.” She turned away and stared into the flames again. She was right, somehow. He hadn’t given himself the chance to trust her. He was too afraid, too afraid she might just rip his heart out and walk over it, piercing it with her sharp heels. All he knew was that he liked her far more than he had liked anyone in a long time. He liked her godforsaken stubbornness, her slipperiness, her insolence that got under his skin and caused a constant itch there, liked it far more than he should. He liked how she made him tickle and brim with anticipation. If only there wasn’t this giant mess between them.

“Why did you burn my shoes?” she asked after a while, ripping him out of his thoughts.

“They reminded me of you. And my own wretchedness.”

“Those were everything I had left…” She trailed off, and he knew she wouldn’t finish that sentence. Because she didn’t trust him.

“Belle…Tell me about Lacey. Please.”

She whirled around and stared at him, wide eyed, and he realized that she could easily think that this was the one mistake too many. The one he wouldn’t forgive. If she only knew.

 


	14. Lacey

„How do you know about Lacey?“ She sounded as if choking, and looked as if she was about to crumble.

“I’m thorough.” He rose and pulled another chair beside his, and gestured for her to sit down. Belle hesitated, watching him as if she tried to find out if he was going to bite her head off.

“Sit, please.” He tried to sound gentle. But when she sat down, it was on the edge of the chair, so she could jump up and flee at any moment. He sat down again, leaning back and trying to look as unintimidating as possible.

“If you already know, what’s there to tell?”

“I want to hear the story. I only know the facts. And I want to understand.”

The fire made her face glow, made her hair gleam with golden streaks, and he wished he could touch her, let the strands of her hair glide through his fingers. Touch her, and take away the anxiety that made her chew her lips. He closed his fists around his cane to overcome the urge.

“You know more than my former employers. Well, I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, now that I quit as a travel companion.” She sighed, and slumped into the chair. She didn’t look at him.

“Lacey was my stage name as a dancer.”

He already knew that, but he wanted to hear it from her. “What kind of dancer?”

She flashed him a look that made him uncomfortable. She was angry, because he made her spell it out. As much as he understood her resentment, he was not going to give her a pass on that.

“The kind that takes off her clothes. Happy?”

“So you were a stripper.”

“No, I was not. Burlesque is not stripping.”

“It is, when it happens in a strip club and you take off your clothes in the process.”

“Do you want to hear the story or tell the story?” Yes, she was definitely angry. And something inside him enjoyed that perversely. Her anger made him get warmer inside, but he ignored that feeling.

“So, what made you become a dancer?”

She stared into the fire and kneaded her knuckles, twisting her hands while she gathered her words. He could almost feel how hard this was for her. And she could just have said she had her reasons. It wouldn’t help their problem, though, wouldn’t help him to understand the strange woman she was, wouldn’t help him to peel off those layers that hid her true self. And he wanted to get to her true self, understand her, understand what made her tick. Understand how a woman with a secure job came to decide to stay with a kid and its helpless father.

“You know that there is this thing that is really crappy about the foster care system? Sometimes it happens that families take on foster kids just to get the money, but they don’t actually care about the kids, right? And then they use the money for their own good, spend it on alcohol or throw it into bottomless holes like non-profitable businesses? Or both?” Her voice trembled, and she gesticulated vehemently with her hands. He had no idea where she was going with this, but it was important enough to make her shake and quiver.

“So what has that to do with Lacey?”

“My dad thought it would solve his problems to take on foster children. Only he didn’t really care about them, just as he didn’t care about me. We were just means to an end. I was still in school then, and I wanted to be good. But then I had to care not only for my dad, but for my foster siblings, too, because dad didn’t do that. He only managed to appear sober when someone from the system turned up to check on us. Then he was the nicest man you could imagine. The rest of the time, it was me and my foster-siblings. I loved them, but dad was the one who managed the money. So I went to school, I did the housework, and cared for my siblings. But we ran out of money each month around the tenth. So I had to find a way to make money.”

“So you started dancing? You were still underage then. How did you get the job?”

“I guess they weren’t so eager to see my id. I told them I was 18, and they didn’t check. But eventually I got busted. And my father’s plan of making money with the foster care system crumbled. They took away my siblings, of course. Because a family with an underage stripper in it isn’t the best place for kids to stay. Not to mention my dad’s alcohol abuse.”

“How long did you dance?”

“A few months. And as long as I was Lacey, we had it good. Well, I dropped out of school, because working nights, going to school and support a family through the day is not easy for a seventeen year old girl.”

Gold’s grip on his cane was so tight by then that he was sure that the bones in his hands were about to snap. If he ever was to meet her father, he would beat him to bloody pulp for burdening his daughter with this. Belle stared into the fire, and tears glittered on her cheek.

“Those shoes were all I had left of that time. A keepsake, something to remember the one time my family was almost happy, because I was there and took care of them. Right before it all went down, and I was the reason we were ripped apart.”

And before he in his desire to rip her out of his life had burned them and taken them away from her forever. He could have punched himself for his own cruelty.

True, he hadn’t known about it. All he had found out during his inquiries was that she had been arrested once for dancing at a strip club under the name of Lacey while she was still underage. And he only found out because her father told him, clearly rejoicing the opportunity to degrade his daughter. That alone had made Gold suspicious.

“What became of your siblings?”

She shrugged. “They came into new families. Some of them better. Some of them not.”

“And you?”

“I went back to school. Started working. I wanted to work for the system, but they’re a bit more thorough with the people they hire than with those they give the kids to.” She laughed, but it was a hard and cold laugh that made his skin crawl.

“So basically, when you arrived here, you wanted to make sure that Bae’s family is functional.”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“You could have just said that.”

“Yes, I suppose I could have.”

He waited for her to say something else, but she kept silent. “I’m sorry about the shoes”, he said, and a sad smile flitted over her lips, so quick he almost thought he had imagined it.

“We can’t hold on to our memories forever. It was time for me to let them go. Make new ones. And let’s be real, I’m rather pathetic.”

“I don’t think you’re pathetic. And let’s be real, I met people who made deals with me for less noble reasons, deals they regretted a lot more than you should regret your past.”

“I do not regret my past. And I’m not noble.” For the first time she looked at him now, and she looked so forlorn that he wanted to pull her into his lap, cradle her like a child and never let her go. She tilted her head. “So what do you think now? Can you tolerate a woman who has been a stripper for a short time, long ago? Or is this one of the things you can’t forgive?”

“I thought burlesque isn’t striptease.”

“It is when you take off your clothes in the process and do it in a strip club.”

“Who said something as stupid as that?”

She giggled, and he wanted to bottle up the sound of it and keep it close to his heart, if only it was possible. But when the sound ebbed away, the sadness was back on her face.

“Why did you come back?” he asked, because he still didn’t know why she had materialized in his backyard.

“From time to time, I storm out of a conversation because I need time to think, and calm down. That doesn’t mean that conversation is finished.”

“It felt pretty finished for me.”

She grimaced. “I should work on my signals. You’re not really good at getting them.”

“You should learn to use words.”

At this, she straightened and narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re not really good at it either, Mister.”

“That’s not true. I’m actually a master of words. Deals require small print.”

“And you love to screw people over, don’t you? You toy with words to make them bend.”

He chuckled. “I do. Though, in your case, I only needed to say please, and you bent over.”

“Yeah, but you screwed up the small print with me.”

“That’s true. And I actually have no idea how you came to like me.”

“Yeah, that’s a mystery to be uncovered.” She bit her lip and stared back into the dying fire. There was nothing left of her shoes. “Is there anything else you want to know about me?”

“Yes.”

She stiffened, and he wondered briefly if there was anything else in her past that made her nervous. He couldn’t imagine anything that would put him off, and for the first time in a very long time he decided to take a leap of faith and trust her. Which was, somehow, remarkable. She had lied to him from the start, given a rather bad impression of herself by letting him believe she had picked up his son randomly, and had kind of a shady past. Yet there he was, finding himself trusting her.

“So, what is it?” she asked, clipped and sounding choked.

“Do you want to stay here tonight?”

She let out her breath, almost snorting. “That’s all?”

“Yes.” He wanted to take her up to his bedroom, wanted to hold her and kiss her and sleep with her at his side. Wanted to sleep _with_ her, but right now that was not a priority.

“So, Lacey is not a problem for you, but lying is?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not the uptight bourgeois I thought you were.” She leaned back in her chair and wiped the tear stains from her face. He was not sure if she would allow him to hug her, so he just stayed where he was, but he placed his hand on the armrest of his chair, close enough for her to take it if she wanted to.

“Well, dear, you should have realized that earlier. Did you ever meet an uptight bourgeois as eager to kiss your feet as me?”

She snorted really this time, and Gold was proud – only a little bit, but enough to allow himself a smirk – that he had made her laugh.

“You may have a bit of a kink there, you know that, right?”

“I do.” He smiled at her, and she slipped her hand into his.

“I like that.”

They sat there for a while, watching the fire burn down, until only the light of the stars above them was left. There were still unresolved problems between them, but for now, Gold was content with just holding her hand. The problems would be still there in the morning. This moment, however, would not come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for any inaccuracies in portraying the foster care system. I'm not from the US, my knowledge stems from Wikipedia, and I take the liberty to skip in-depth-research for writing fanfic. :)


	15. Getting closer

Belle didn’t want to open her eyes. They felt as if they were glued shut anyway, after all the tears she shed the night before. And she just wanted to snuggle a little tighter into his arms, his embrace, just lie in bed and spoon for a little longer. Sadly, Robert had other plans, and Belle registered the exact moment he jerked awake, because it was the moment the door to the bedroom opened, and he pushed her out of his arms and out of the bed. Belle landed on the floor and was about to protest – very loud and not very friendly – when she heard Bae’s voice.

“Morning, Papa…I’m hungry, do you make me breakfast?”

“Of course, boy, I’m with you in a second. How about you go ahead and choose your favorite bowl? The blue one, or that with the stripes?” He sounded tense, as if something was sitting on his chest and keeping him from breathing. Belle was sure he wouldn’t be able to fool Bae sounding like that. Bae was too clever.

“I like the one with the hearts. Belle’s bowl.”

“Of course, son. Take the one with the hearts.”

The door closed, and Belle lifted her head. “What was that for?” she asked, and she ignored his hand when he wanted to help her onto the bed again. Thank you very much, but she liked to have her explanation first.

“I just don’t wanted him to think that you’re back. It would only confuse him.”

“And you could not tell me that _before_ kicking me out of the bed?”

“I’m sorry.” And he looked as if he was really sorry. Pained. “Did I hurt you?”

“No. But we have to find a way to tell him.”

Robert kept silent, and Belle felt something tickle at the base of her skull. “We will tell him, right?”

“Of course. But not right away. I mean, we don’t even know what this is yet. How would we explain that?”

“So do you expect me to sneak in and out of the house?”

He actually blushed at that, and Belle closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see the guilt on his face. “It’s ok”, she said. “I understand.”

“Belle…” He grasped her arms and pulled her closer, so close that he could kiss her, a chaste kiss on her lips, a kiss that told her what he couldn’t put into words. Belle tried to find comfort in that. At least they were both aiming their relationship in the same direction now. Or were they? She pulled back and locked eyes with him.

“We’re together now, right?”, she asked, and he smiled.

“Yes, we are.”

“Then we should tell him that.” She cupped his cheek and felt a tremor run through him.

“And we will. Just not…right now. How about you come by tonight and we make dinner together?”

Belle decided to accept this. They were doing it slow, and that was not the most stupid thing to do. They had started like fireworks, and it had almost driven them apart before they even reached each other. So, slow and steady sounded actually like a good plan. And it didn’t mean she had to refrain from seduction. “Alright”, she said, and she was aware of him staring at her lips when she smiled and sucked in her lower lip to bite it. They had only cuddled that night, too wrung out from emotions to do anything else than hold each other, but now Belle felt heat pool in her belly, felt her breath hitch, and the prospect of seducing him when she came over for dinner made her inner muscles clench in anticipation.

“Anything special you want me to wear?”, she asked, and he swallowed. If she spent the day in a trembling state of anticipation, he could do just as well. He lifted his hand to trail her jaw line with his fingertips, and his thumb came to rest on her bottom lip, as light as rose petals on skin.

“The shoes from the day I fired you. But not the dress. This is going to be a family dinner.”

Belle giggled. “Does that mean I shall come naked?”

Instead of answering, he kissed her again. Belle moaned deep in her throat, but it didn’t help. He pulled away nevertheless, and Belle wondered if she was the only one who felt so needy and craving.

“Behave, sweetheart.” He slipped out of bed, put on his slippers and grabbed his cane. “Maybe you could slip out when I make breakfast for Bae.”

It felt a little as if he was kicking her out again, but Belle didn’t object. In fact, she was almost proud of how well he adjusted to his role as a father, and if it meant that she had to stay back, then that was ok with her. For now. She wanted Bae just as much to be happy as she wanted Gold and herself to be happy. Even if it felt as if she was having a secret affair with a married man when she sneaked out of the house.

But she forgot about that when she came back in the evening, after a day spent almost entirely in front of her closet to find the perfect dress. Bae opened the door, and his face lit up when he recognized her.

“Belle!” He jumped her and hugged her waist, and Belle had to bite back the tears. She had missed him, and holding him in her arms made her aware of how deep her love for him was. Over his curly head, she smiled at Robert, who had stepped into the hall and watched the scene, with an expression on his face that she couldn’t quite read. When Bae let go of her, he looked from her to his father, and creased his forehead.

“Does Papa know you’re coming?” he asked, and sounded worried.

“I invited her.” Robert smiled, and came to her to take her coat. His fingertips grazed her arm, and Belle shivered. She wanted so much more than a fleeting touch to welcome her.

“Does this mean you’re no longer fighting?”

“It means we talked it out. Because that is what adults do.” Belle patted his head and smiled, and ignored the snorting sound Robert made.

“Good. Are you my nanny again, then?”

“No, Bae.” Belle was not sure how she could explain the new relationship between her and Robert to him, and she was not even sure if it was her place to do so. She looked at Robert, seeking his help, but he seemed just as lost as she was.

“Let’s make dinner”, he said, and Bae hopped ahead into the kitchen. The moment he was out of sight, Robert pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips onto hers, smothering her with a kiss so full of longing that Belle wished it would never end. But he pulled away almost immediately.

“I missed you”, he whispered, and it filled Belle with even more longing. She wanted to snuggle up with him on the couch and just feel his warmth. She didn’t even know if he was the cuddling type.

Bae was waiting for them in the kitchen, balancing on the edge of a chair and loading peppers onto one of his trucks to steer it to the other end of the table. When Belle was still his nanny, they had never cooked together like that, with Gold and his son and herself, and it felt so much like family that Belle was constantly on the brink of tears. Bae brought her the vegetables to chop, Robert prepared the meat – turkey breast – and Bae was master of the rice. He took his job to stir the rice from time to time very serious, and Belle loved him even more for the concentrated look on his face, and the way he stuck his tongue between his teeth when he was focused.

“Bae, would you set the table in the dining room?” Robert asked, when he was finished chopping the turkey, and as soon as Bae was out of the kitchen, he stepped to Belle, brushed her hair aside and kissed her neck. It sent shivers down her spine and over her chest, and when he placed his palms on her waist, just below her ribcage, and nibbled at the crook of her neck, she had to grab the kitchen counter to keep herself from melting into a puddle on the floor.

Robert chuckled when she sank back against him, sending another shiver over her. “I couldn’t resist”, he murmured, and his breath on her skin was warm and humid. Belle couldn’t withhold the groan that formed in her throat, much less the whining that escaped her when he stepped away to reach for a pan. Bae came back to fetch the cutlery, and Belle wondered if Robert had released her because he didn’t want his son to see them being intimate with each other.

“When are we going to tell him?”, she asked when Bae was gone with the cutlery. Robert seemed lost for a moment, and looked so much like the helpless man she had first encountered that she had to swallow down a lump in her throat.

“I have no idea. What if it doesn’t work out? I don’t want to tell him now, and in two weeks everything is completely different again.”

Belle knew that this was reasonable. First they had to define their relationship. But it hurt, and the prospect of tiptoeing around Bae, maybe for weeks or months, until they were certain of each other, wasn’t really enticing either.

“But how are we to explain why I’m even here?”, she asked, and Robert’s face scrunched up into a grimace, as if he hadn’t thought about that. Men, really.

Belle had still no answer when they sat down to eat. Bae wanted her to sit between him and his dad, for protection or to get her to talk to his dad, she didn’t know. But they seemed to get along much better now. Robert had not really talked about his relationship to his son, but at least Bae talked with his father.

“How’s school?” Belle asked after a while of uncomfortable silence, and Bae wrinkled his nose.

“It’s nice. We’re painting bird houses with Miss Blanchard. Mine is with trucks on it.”

Belle smiled. “That sounds cool.”

Bae nodded, but he didn’t smile back. He picked at the meal on his plate, moving it back and forth, and Belle could tell that something was weighing him down. She looked from the boy to his father, but Robert just stared at Bae, a brooding frown on his face. Belle was not sure what was going on. After a while, when no one talked, Bae looked up again.

“Belle, why didn’t you take the picture I painted for you with you? Didn’t you like it?” The sadness on his face broke her heart, and she took his hand and squeezed it gently.

“No Bae. I just forgot. I was leaving in a hurry, remember?”

The boy nodded, but he was still nibbling at his bottom lip and thinking. “Is it because I painted you and papa together? Didn’t you want to be in the same picture?”

“Oh Bae, I want to be in the same picture. I want it very much. I’ll take the painting with me when I leave, ok?”

He looked only more confused then. “Are you not sleeping over again?”

“What?” Robert’s fork clattered on his plate as if he had slipped, and a few grains of rice flew across the table.

“Is it because he kicked you out of bed this morning?” Bae had bent to Belle and whispered into her ear, and Belle bit her lip to keep herself from grinning. Robert paled and stared at his son as if he saw him for the first time. “Or is it because I took your bowl?”

“Oh Bae, of course not. Your dad just didn’t want to worry you. You know, we’re starting to be friends, and we don’t know yet if we will be good friends or if we will fight a lot and don’t become friends at all. So we just didn’t want to unsettle you.” She looked over Bae’s head to Robert, to see how he was taking her explanation.

“Yes”, was all he said, and he sounded hoarse.

“Oh. Ok.” Bae creased his forehead, and Belle was sure he didn’t understand everything she had said, but there was no way how she could put it better or clearer.

They ate in silence after that, and their dinner seemed to last for an eternity. After cleaning up, they settled on the couch to watch Bae’s favorite cartoon with him, and again it was almost eerie how much like family it felt to Belle, snuggling with Bae and Robert, who acted a little like a fish out of water. But it was ok, and she knew that he just had to get used to it. Nevertheless was it awkward when they brought Bae to bed together, and kissed him goodnight. Belle caressed his cheek and ruffled his hair, and Bae hugged her with his thin arms and whispered “I love you” into her ear, and guilt gnawed at her insides when she looked from the boy to Robert, who stood in the door to Bae’s room and watched the scene as if he didn’t belong to them, when in truth Belle was the alien element.

“We will find a way to make this work”, she said when they were both back in the kitchen. Robert limped to a cabinet and took out two wineglasses, and a bottle of red wine from a shelf.

“I know.” He poured them both a fair amount of wine, and Belle noticed the trembling of his hand.

“Why are you upset?”

“I’m not upset. I just didn’t expect it to be this…complicated.” He sighed, and leaned against the kitchen counter, swirling around the wine in his glass.

“But it’s not. It’s very simple, really. Do you want to be with me?”

“Yes. I don’t know why, but I do.” He took a sip of his wine, and Belle wished he would look at her.

“I want to be with you, too. So we just take it as it comes, one step at a time.”

 “Belle…You deserve a perfect family. And we’re just…broken. I try to make it work with Bae, but I never expected it to be this hard. It’s like treading a minefield every day, and never reaching the other side of it.”

The distance between them seemed endless and impossible to bridge, and Belle had no idea why. She stepped closer, took the glass out of his hand, and laced her fingers with his. “What did you expect? It’s not easy to have a family, especially forming a family when the kid is not only abandoned by his mom but parked with a father it doesn’t know. There will always be times when it’s more difficult. But you shouldn’t keep yourself from being happy. Everything is easier when you are happy.”

He bent forward, only a little bit, and rested his forehead against hers. “I don’t know about that.”

“Just try it. And now, could you please kiss me, and have your wicked way with me? Because those shoes hurt a little, and I’d like to take them off.”

“Well, in that case…” He chuckled and pulled her closer, and finally kissed her like she had wanted to be kissed all evening: deep and wet and hot. She had waited so long for this kiss that she nearly stomped her foot when the phone rang, shrill and nasty.

“Ignore it.” She was begging, and was almost ashamed of herself, but he only smiled, and after pressing a fleeting kiss to her forehead, limped to the phone and answered. And right after he said his name, Belle did no longer recognize him. It was as if, from one second to the next, a completely different man was standing there, ice cold and full of hatred.

“The fuck you do”, he snarled into the phone, and Belle sank down onto a chair at the kitchen table. His voice sent a shiver down her spine and reminded her why everyone in town was afraid of him. Reminded her that under the sweetness and helplessness lay a cold and strict, unbendable man. A shark. She hardly heard what he was saying, and when he hung up and came back to her, to the table, she didn’t want to ask. She didn’t want to know. He sank onto a chair opposite from her and stared at the blank surface of the table.

“Milah is here. She wants to visit Bae.” His voice was as blank as his face, and Belle wished more than anything else that he hadn’t answered the phone, so that they could be happy just for a little longer. 


	16. The other Woman

Belle reached over the table and took his hand. For a second she thought he would pull back, escape her touch, but then he squeezed her hand and smiled. But it was a sad smile, one that was destined to reassure her, not a genuine one.

“So what happens now?” she asked, and he sighed.

“She wants to come over right now to talk to me in person. I guess she thinks I’m more open to her arguments if she smiles at me.” The tone of his voice suggested how very much mistaken his ex-wife was, if she really thought that.

“So, what did you say?”

“That she should rot in hell.” A hopeless chuckle escaped him.

“And she didn’t agree to that? I wonder why.”

“I guess we have a few more minutes before she brings hell to my doorstep.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. They sat in silence for a while.

“Should I go home?” Belle asked then. After all, she had no place in this. She was not part of his family, had no say in his decisions as a parent. And if she was honest with herself, she was afraid of this ex-wife of his. But when she suggested going home, his grip around her hand tightened.

“Please, stay. I may need you.” He sounded calm, but Belle felt him quivering just beneath the surface, saw how much it meant to him that she stayed at his side. So she swallowed down her own fear and agreed.

“I’ll stay with you, then.”

It took his ex-wife another ten minutes to arrive, but it was still too soon. Belle didn’t know what she had expected, but certainly not a woman that looked like a slightly older version of herself. With dark hair and clear eyes, and unmistakably good taste. Somehow she had imagined Milah to be…different. After all, she had left her son, had not only parked him with a father he didn’t know, but also left him at a bus station with a travel agent – not even waiting for the travel companion that should pick him up there. So Belle had not expected someone who looked as agreeable as Milah did. However, her beauty didn’t cover up her rudeness. She was hardly in, taking in the interior with a fleeting glance, before she turned to Robert, pointing at Belle over her shoulder.

“Who is she?”

As much as Belle wanted to stand up to the woman and defend Robert with claws and teeth, she stayed back and held her breath, curious how he would answer to that.

“That’s Belle.”

“Well, this has nothing to do with her, so she doesn’t have to be here.”

“Yes, this is between you and me. But it didn’t hinder you to bring along your boy toy.” Robert glanced briefly at Milah’s boyfriend, Killian, who shrugged and joined Belle at the kitchen table.

“I guess we just lean back and watch the fight, then”, he said, grinning at Belle and wriggling his eyebrows. For a moment Belle was distracted by how flexible those eyebrows were, before she looked away. She had no interest in talking to him.

“He’s not my boy toy. Are you still jealous? You should be over our divorce by now.”

“I never was jealous.” Belle thought Robert’s cane would snap any moment in his grip now. He didn’t unclench his teeth to speak, and the tension oscillating around him turned her stomach upside down.

“Uh, is he always so tense?”

Belle looked irritated at Killian, who bent closer and whispered to her as if they were having some secret bond through being “the other partners”. As if it was amusing to see their partners struggle.

“Is she always this aggressive?” Bitchy was more like it, but Belle didn’t say that out loud.

“Oh yeah. Makes for a great ride.” He grinned, and Belle decided that Milah’s taste had an exceptional flaw. How could anyone swap Robert for someone like this Killian? Of course, she didn’t know if Milah had really swapped. Maybe they had just decided that it wasn’t right anymore. A lot of marriages ended that way.

“Whatever. I just wanted to visit Bae and say him goodbye before we take off for our cruise.” Milah had crossed her arms in front of her chest and was clearly trying to stare Robert down. Good luck with that, Belle thought.

“We talked about that. You remember? You agreed to not make this harder on him than it already was. You abandoned him. You didn’t even wait for his travel companion when you dropped him off at the bus station.” Robert’s voice could have cut through glass, and Belle shivered.

“How do you know about that? There was someone from the agency, and I had an appointment. I had no choice, and he managed apparently.”

“An appointment, huh? Did you need to go to manicure that badly?”

Milah flinched, and for a moment she looked as if she was about to hit Robert. But she closed her hands to fists and pressed them to her sides. “You’re still an ass”, she hissed, and Robert cocked his eyebrows.

“Have you ever doubted it, dearie?”

Killian leaned again closer to Belle, and she wished she could shut him out, because she knew exactly that his next comment would be of the greasy sort. And she was right. “Do you like it when he degrades you in bed?” he asked, and Belle was to shocked to even think of something to say. But apparently, Killian hadn’t been as secretive as he thought.

“What did you just say?” Robert circled Milah faster than Belle had ever seen him walk and planted himself in front of Killian. And he held his cane below the handle, as if he considered using it to beat Killian to pulp.

“Just having a lovely conversation with your…Belle here.” Killian leaned back in his chair and grinned.

“Killian. This is not helping.” Milah had come to the table, too, and Belle almost pitied her. It was hard enough to face Robert as it was, but having her lover stab her in the back with his thoughtless remarks was something no woman needed.

“It’s ok, Robert. He was just about to apologize.” Belle glared at Killian, and he shrugged and grinned.

“Yes, sure. Sorry, Miss.”

It was not enough for Robert. “Out”, he hissed, and Killian shrugged again. But he decided apparently that it was better to wait outside.

“If he has to leave, then she has to go, too.” Milah pointed at Belle.

“My house, my rules. She stays. And this is not the issue here, as I take it. You want to see my son.”

For a second, Milah looked as if she wanted to argue further, but then she let her head fall back, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath. “Yes, I want to see my son.”

“He’s already asleep. You have to come back tomorrow after school.”

Belle was amazed that Robert gave in so easily. She had expected him to deny Milah to see Bae until she lay begging on the floor and promised to do anything, maybe even to never show up again or flay her boyfriend personally in front of her ex-husband. But she was glad that he still seemed to listen to reason. Milah, however, didn’t see how accommodating Robert was.

“I can’t wait for tomorrow. We will miss our flight.”

“You will either miss your flight or my son. It’s one or the other, dearie. Not both.” His voice was like acid, and Belle filed away the information that she should forever be alarmed if he called her “dearie”. Milah seemed to accept that there was nothing she could do. Her shoulders sagged, and her face was pale and strained. But she managed to smile at Belle when she turned around, although it was ghostly and blatantly false.

“Do you think you could accompany me to the door?”

“Sure…” Belle didn’t know what to make out of Milah’s strange request, but she hopped to her feet. The other woman eyed her fleetingly from head to toe, and for a moment her eyes rested on Belle’s shoes. A smirk quirked the corner of her mouth up, and Belle felt suddenly naked, exposed, as if the other woman knew something she didn’t. Belle took care to walk behind Milah, afraid she might feel the glare of the other one like daggers in her back.

“I know your face, don’t I? You’re that travel companion.” Milah had turned around when she was out the door, and narrowed her eyes at Belle.

“What?”

“Yes, your picture was in the file. What happened? Did you see the opportunity to seize yourself a wealthy…benefactor?”

Belle gasped. And for a moment, she just wanted to close the door into the other woman’s face, preferably smashing in her nose in the process. But she only squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “No. And I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

“Well, Belle…I’d be careful with Robert. He will turn on you faster than you can count to three. And he will act as if it was in your best interest. In truth, he will rip your heart right out of your chest and crush it in front of you.” And with that, she turned around and walked to the car, where Killian was leaning against the driver side, smoking a cigarette. Belle didn’t want to give her the gratification of watching them drive off. But she wanted to be sure they were really gone, so she remained standing in the door until the car rounded a corner and was out of sight. Only then did she go back into the kitchen, where Robert was pacing back and forth, his pent-up frustration erupting in nervous movements.

Belle halted and watched him silently. It took him a while to become aware of her presence.

“What did she want? Did she warn you of me?” He came to a halt and planted his cane in front of him. His knuckles were white, and Belle wished she could ease the tension away.

“She tried, yes.”

“And did she succeed?”

“I make up my own mind, thank you very much.” She stepped at his side and laid her hand on top of his on the cane. A tremor ran through him, and for a moment she feared he would pull back.

“I guess that ruined the mood, hm?” Robert looked down at her, and a sad smiled tugged at his lips. Belle reached up and pulled him into an embrace, and she hoped he would feel everything she wanted to tell him but didn’t have the words for. His arms closed around her, and she felt a shiver run through him.

“It’s ok. We will have another night.”

“Belle…please stay. Don’t leave me tonight.” His voice was strained, and quivering, and the need that spoke out of his tone made her chest tight.

“Of course.” She wanted to step back, wanted to lead him into the living room and to the couch, wanted to snuggle close and hold him for the rest of the night, but he needed something else. When she wanted to step back, he tightened his grip around her, pulled her closer again and buried his face in her curls. And before she even knew how it happened, he started kissing her, as if driven by a strange fever. She felt his need in every kiss, felt something close to despair in the way he held her, as if she was a last straw to keep him from drowning. His lips left a damp trail from her lips, over her jaw and down her throat, and Belle let her head fall back to grant him better access. She was not really ready for this, felt still antsy from the confrontation with Milah and Killian, but she was willing to give herself – all of her – if this was what he needed to feel better. So she didn’t object when he started to pull up her dress and pressed his knee between her thighs. She raked through his hair and arched her back to press her chest to his. She wanted to let him feel as much of her as possible, even when his touch right now failed to awaken her passion. He needed her, needed warmth, consolation, and she offered all she had to give. She even helped him to open his pants, stroked up and down his hard cock, and helped him to get rid of her own panties.

“Tell me to stop, Belle”, he whispered, his forehead leaning against her temple. His hands sprawled around her ass, pressed her to his erection, and Belle heard his ragged breath, his trembling voice as he begged her, “Please, tell me to stop.”

“No. I want this.” She grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him closer. Pressed her lips to his, and wanted to show him with her kiss that it was ok. And it really was. When he cupped her breast through the fabric of her dress, stroking her nipple with his thumb until it hardened, she felt more at ease, and felt her inner muscles clench and tighten, felt her own need answer his. He groaned when she cupped his shaft again, and his breath wafted hot and humid over the crook of her neck. He kissed her neck, sucked in skin, and it made Belle shudder and moan when he gently bit her. She wrapped her right leg around him, clawed into his shoulders to keep herself from falling, and she wanted him to take her, now, without further fuss, wanted to feel him inside, deep and hard.

She almost sobbed when he pulled back a little, but when he turned her around and pushed her gently down to the floor, half falling with her, half easing himself down, she understood. Somehow he landed between her legs, and started kissing her again, her lips, her throat, her collarbones, and it was only another awkward second when he pushed himself up so she could pull her dress over her head.

“Off with your clothes”, she said, tugging at the buttons of his shirt. He kicked off his pants, with a nervous little laugh that wrapped itself around her heart and squeezed it until she thought she couldn’t breathe anymore. And at the same time, a feeling that she didn’t recognize at once flooded her, one that pierced her heart and drove tears to her eyes and blocked her throat.

“Belle…Belle, what’s wrong?” Robert stopped opening the buttons of his shirt and cupped her cheeks, cradled her face with a look so worried on his face, that she felt another wave of that strange feeling wash over her.

“Oh fuck…” That wasn’t what she had wanted to say, but it was the first thing that slipped out, and she squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her palm over her mouth to keep herself from saying something even worse.

“Oh God, Belle, I’m sorry. Please, talk to me. Did I hurt you?”

“No. No…it’s just…I’m sorry, this is the absolute wrong moment to say something like this, but it just hit me, and I can’t stop, and I’m a terrible person, but I love you.” It all blurted out so fast it almost sounded like a single unintelligible word. Robert stared at her, clearly lost, and Belle hiccupped.

“What?”

She had ruined it. Once and for all. He stared at her as if she had lost her mind, and Belle could only agree to that. What on earth was wrong with her? She swallowed, and looked away from his face, fixed her eyes on his collar, on the triangle of skin his shirt revealed.

“Belle. Look at me.”

It was the hardest thing to do as he said, to meet his eyes, when all she wanted to do was crawl into a deep and dark hole and hide forever.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” Her voice was tiny, even in her own ears. And still muffled from her hand over her mouth. Robert took her hand, and pulled it away from her face.

“Did you just say you love me?”

Belle nodded, miserably. That feeling that had overwhelmed her, that had shaken her like an earthquake, had clearly turned her brain to mush. They had hardly started dating. How could she blurt out something like that after…had they even had a real date yet? But the longer he looked at her, silent and unmoving, the more pain she felt, like a stitch in her sides, as if her lungs were about to explode.

“I really shouldn’t have…”, she started, but was interrupted when he bent down and pressed his lips to hers, wet and clumsy, almost like the first kiss she had received when she was sixteen, from a boy of eighteen who didn’t know the least thing about kissing. But other than her first kiss, this one was sweet and soothing, and she wished it would never end. But it was over all too quickly.

He pulled back, and his fingertips grazed over her temple, her cheeks, through her hair. “And I love you, too”, he said. “And I know that it’s too soon, and crazy, and not very smart…” With every word, he planted little kisses on her forehead, and her eyelids, her cheeks and her lips, and it eased away the fear that had started to creep in. And with the fear dissolving, something else came back. She wriggled a little beneath him, and wrapped her legs around him. And with a groan deep in his throat, he answered her clumsy movements and entered her, deep and slowly. His movements were just as awkward as hers, and the floor beneath her was cold and hard, but Belle had never been so happy, had never cared less about her discomfort, never cared less if the act brought her release or not. She just wanted to look at him, at his face, his eyes, so warm and caring. Just wanted to feel him, with every fiber. So she wasn’t disappointed when he stiffened, after a few hard thrusts, and came, buried deep inside her. He collapsed over her, and she held him in a tight embrace and basked in his warmth, his softness, now that all the tension was spent and gone.

He rested only for a short moment, before rolling to her side and pulling her into his arms. “I’m sorry, dear”, he said. “Let’s go upstairs, and put you into a proper bed. And then I will make up for this uncomfortable…floor.”

Belle giggled, and pressed her face to his chest. “Yes. That would be nice.”

But even if this would have been the last time for today, and she had to sleep right there on the floor, she was happy. Nothing could change that. Not even Milah and her ugly insinuations.       


	17. Think about it

„I want to buy you a new pair of shoes. Make new memories.” Gold lay on his stomach – and on hers, actually – chin resting on his forearm, and trailing her ribcage with his fingertips. Her stomach fluttered when he blew his breath over her naked skin.

“You don’t need to buy me anything. I can support myself.” She sounded determined to make this clear, and he wondered why. It was not as if he was trying to stint her independence.

“I know. But I took something from you, and destroyed it. Let me make up for it.” He pressed a kiss on her stomach. “And why is it that Jefferson is allowed to buy you shoes, but I am not?”

“I don’t sleep with Jefferson.” She played with his hair, twirling strands of it between her fingers and tickling his temple with it. She looked dreamy, al little like a kitten playing with a strand of yarn.

“You just accept them to torture me.”

“Does it work?”

“Of course it does. But I want you to wear something of mine. I want to see you in shoes that I bought. And nothing else.”

She swallowed, and blushed. Her stomach beneath him lifted him a little upwards when she sucked in air, and he reveled in the knowledge that she found the idea of it just as enticing as he did.

 “I think we should sleep. Because of…school tomorrow. And things.” Belle was obviously trying to be the responsible one. He snorted a little, and Belle blushed. At some point during the night, her eloquence had left her, and he liked that quite a lot.

“Exhausted, darling?” he asked, and to make it harder for her, he licked over her belly and sucked in a little skin.

“What do you think?” she asked. He felt a smug grin tug at the corner of his lips, and he didn’t even try to hide it from her.

“Sleep is fine.” He pressed another kiss to her stomach before shuffling upwards, pulling her into his arms and snuggling up behind her.

The night was over much too soon. The alarm went off at 6.30, and he dragged himself out of bed to wake up Bae, make breakfast and see his son off to school. Belle didn’t sneak out this time, but helped with the breakfast, and Bae didn’t seem surprised to still find her there.

“So you slept over. That’s fun.” He bit into his toast and smiled with stuffed cheeks.

“Yes, that was definitely fun. But I think you need to hurry now.” Belle ruffled his hair, and Gold felt his heart clench at the sight of it. He wanted to have her there in his kitchen, with him and his son, every day. It felt like the most natural thing to kiss her on the cheek when he took off to walk Bae to the bus stop.

And although they had talked about it, and decided that he would meet Milah alone, in the afternoon, he was sad when he came back and she was no longer there. His house felt empty, and not even the little note she had left him – words written in her handwriting that was a little slanting and tiny, and a little messy for a women’s handwriting – was able to console him. He smelled at the paper, hoped to find a trace of her scent there, but it just smelled like paper, ordinary and empty, so he folded it and tucked it into the front pocket of his shirt, over his heart. Then he got himself busy. He had a contract to work out. And this time, he would make no mistakes with the small print.

Later, when he faced Milah, he was almost a little disappointed that all his effort on the small print just went unnoticed. Milah signed the contract without a second glance, and her curvy signature was painfully pretentious in his eyes. Belle’s handwriting might have been untidy, but it was honest. Milah pretended to be something else. She had always been pretending, and no matter how hard he tried, he had never been able to satisfy the longing that was at eating at her.

It almost broke his heart to see the joy in Bae’s face when he came home and found his mother waiting for him, knowing that he would see her only this afternoon, before she parted and left him again. It was cruel, but on the other hand, it might be just as cruel to keep them apart. Gold had considered it, out of spite, to punish Milah. But it would punish Bae as well, and some day, his ex-wife might tell Bae about it and turn the boy against him. He didn’t want to risk that. But now that she had signed the contract, there would at least be no more out of the blue visits.

Bae cried, of course, when Milah left, and Gold spent the rest of the day humoring his son the best he could. It was still awkward, as he was not entirely sure how to do that, exactly. He tried to imagine what Belle would do, since she seemed to have a natural way of communicating with his son, a way of talking to him that was not at all stiff or unnatural. She talked to Bae in a way his son understood, as if he was a grown up, and Gold felt terribly alone and incapable. How was he to explain to Bae that his mother wouldn’t come back for at least a year, and that she had visited because she loved him, not to leave him again. At least he hoped she loved Bae. Maybe Milah had just found another thing to long for and had decided that this time, it wasn’t her husband that was in the way, but her son.

Bae had difficulties going to sleep that night, and when he finally did, Gold felt more lonely than ever. He contemplated calling Belle, to talk with her, tell her every little detail of that day, but he didn’t want to appear needy. It was bad enough that he had been needy the night before, and had craved her body and her warmth just to comfort him. Belle had given herself without hesitating, but when he thought of this morning, how she had refused to let him buy her shoes, he suspected that she needed space and independence. So he decided to give her space, give her alone-time. He didn’t call her.

But he had an idea, and decided to call someone else.

He met Belle again on Wednesday, when they met for breakfast at Granny’s after he dropped off Bae at the bus station.

“I missed you”, she said, and her kiss on his cheek was at the same time heartwarming and utterly dissatisfying. As soon as he had seen her, walking towards him with that wide smile that made his heart jump into his throat – and another part of him hard – he knew that he hadn’t seen her for far too long. It had been almost two days, and if he had any kind of self respect left, he would admit that two days were not _that_ long. But long enough for him to long for her like Maine longed for the sun after a cold winter.

“How did it go with Milah?” she asked, when they were seated in one of the booths inside – and, oh, Gold knew by then how it felt to run the gauntlet, with all the dirty looks shot at him. But Belle held his hand between hers and looked into his face as if she was able to see something there. As if he was someone. He was still formulating answers in his head when Granny approached them, with a face as if she was smelling something bad.

“Are you here for the rent?” she barked, and Gold made sure not to look at her when he answered. She might bite if he did.

“I wouldn’t sit here then, and wait to order breakfast, now, would I?”

Belle furrowed her brows and looked from him to Granny. Of course she noticed the aggressive dislike Granny emanated. And how could she miss it, with the way Granny later placed his breakfast in front of him with a clatter, and the remark that she would charge him extra for the milk to his coffee. But Belle didn’t ask, and she waited patiently for him to tell her about Milah.

“Well, she signed a contract that regulates her visits.” He had not expected Belle to latch on to that so fast, but the moment the words were out, she narrowed her eyes and tilted her head, biting her lip in a way that made it hard for him to concentrate on what she said.

“Did she read the small print?” Belle didn’t even ask if there _was_ small print. She didn’t even question that he hid something in there.

“She didn’t.” He felt slightly uncomfortable now, and wriggled on his seat. He was almost sure that Belle would not approve of his measures, so he wanted to change the subject. “I had an idea, and I wanted it to be a surprise, but maybe it’s better if we talk about it…”

“Are you trying to distract me?” She raised a brow, and heat started creeping up his neck, and his cheekbones seemed to burn right through his skin.

“Yes.” He had to clear his throat. It was ridiculous to react this way. It was ridiculous to allow his conscience to peep up, just because a woman had that look on her face, as if she knew all his dirtiest secrets and fantasies. Well, not any woman. Belle. She did not only see him, she saw right to the bottom of his soul. Not a pretty sight, he was sure of it. And he knew, if she would ask him, he would relate every single detail of that contract to her. But she didn’t.

“So, tell me about your idea.”

He slumped a little in his seat, and only then did he realize how tense he had been. “Do you want to see your siblings again? I could find them for you.”

She choked on her tea, and started coughing. That was not exactly what he had expected to happen. “Wait…what?” she said, and her face turned from flushed red to white as milk and back.

“No?” he asked, and she shook her head violently.

“I don’t think they want to see me again. I mean, I was the reason…no. Better leave this alone.”

That was really not the reaction he had anticipated. And it brought him on a hot seat. He cleared his throat again, because it was suddenly almost impossible to swallow. “Um, but they would like to see you again…I’m sure…” It sounded lame. Belle’s back was suddenly very straight, and she placed her palms on the table, as if trying to keep herself from smashing something.

“What did you do?”

“I may have made a few calls…”

“And you didn’t think about asking first?” Her voice trembled, and he wondered if she was about to cry. He grabbed her hands.

“It’s alright, Belle. We’ll just forget about it.”

“Who did you call?”

“Someone who helped me find people in the past. I just call her off.” He hoped it wasn’t too late for that. Belle bit her lip and nodded. He wondered why this was so upsetting for her. It had not been her fault that her foster siblings had been taken away. But he knew that guilt was not a rational feeling. He had felt guilty about being not enough for Milah for a long time. It took him years to realize that there were some things one just couldn’t help. Though, in his case, getting revenge, even when it was only small, hammered into the fine points of a deal, definitely made him feel better about it. 

They didn’t talk anymore about it, and after breakfast, they walked side by side until they passed his shop, where Belle kissed him good bye.

“Maybe we can eat again later, when Bae comes home from school?” she asked, and he smiled, his heart clenching a tiny bit in his chest. He wanted her to be part of his family.

“I’d like to do that”, he said, and watched her crossing the street on her way to the library. After opening his shop and settling in the back to repair a clock, he got a text message from Emma Swan:

“Found them, want to talk.”

He was not sure if that was a good thing.   


	18. Trust

Belle’s heart jumped when Robert walked into the library and smiled at her. She loved his smile, and it always sent heat right into her belly.

“Ready to close the library?” he asked, and his voice tickled her insides.

“Already?”

“Well, we could always just stay here…do you like it to be watched?”

“Watched?” she asked, and blushed violently when he licked his lips and grinned. Oh. “We could always go upstairs…” It sounded as if there lived a toad in her throat and croaked the words for her. His grin grew even wider.

“As tempting as this sounds, I’d like to take you shopping first.”

Her breath hitched. “But I told you that I don’t want you to buy me things. I can support myself.”

“I know. And I told you I’d like to buy you shoes. One of us has to bend.”

“With the way you say it, this sounds really dirty.” Belle lifted her chin. She didn’t intend to give in.

“That’s intentional, dear.” Of course it was.

“Well, it won’t be me.”

Robert had halted in front of the counter and folded his hands over his cane. For a moment, Belle just stared at his hands and the way they closed around the golden handle, and she wondered why something simple as that had such an impact on her, why it looked so incredibly erotic to her. Maybe because she still remembered how that handle had felt on her skin…She tore her gaze away to meet his eyes. He furrowed his brows.

“Belle, I don’t want to do this to take something away from you. I don’t want to take away your independence, or make you feel incapable of supporting yourself. Or, god forbid, as if you weren’t good enough for me the way you are. I just want to give you something. It’s not as if I wanted to brand you. You’re not one of my possessions.”

“I know.” She knew that none of this was in his intentions. But she felt as if it was too soon. She was difficult, and unreasonable, all too impulsive, and every time she looked at him, talked to him, she waited for him to wake out of his trance and realize that she was not enough for him. She was not perfect. No one was. And she had failed the people she loved before. She would fail again. And she had already screwed up so much between them, that she feared the next step she would take into the wrong direction – any direction – would tear them apart, this time for ever. But she realized, too, that it was just as dangerous to be afraid all the time that he would wake up. So she inhaled deeply and decided to be brave. “Ok. Take me shopping.”

A smile spread on his face, and it was definitely mischievous around the edges. She came to know why when he took her hand to lead her around the counter and to his side.

“Turn around, sweetheart”, he said, and Belle shivered. When she turned, she glimpsed how he took something out of his pocket, but she didn’t recognize it. Robert stepped close behind her, and brushed her hair aside. Belle shivered when he kissed the crook of her neck, and again when something soft and cool whispered over her skin. A scarf.

“Let me blindfold you?” Robert’s voice was a low growl close to her ear, and Belle noticed how her body slightly swayed back to lean against him.

“Why?”

“I’m taking you to a very secret place. You could betray its location, and that is a risk we cannot take.”

“You just want to blindfold me to have me helpless.”

He chuckled, and kissed her neck again. “That, too. But if you don’t want it, it’s ok.”

“No. I trust you.” And even if not, she could take off the blindfold at any moment. Nevertheless, when he folded the scarf over her eyes and fastened it with a knot at the back of her head, her stomach fluttered, and her heart beat as fast as a rabbit heart. He kissed her neck again, and his hands slid down her arms, warm and light as feathers.

“I wish I knew how I managed to gain your trust”, he said, and Belle giggled. But when he clasped her wrists to bring them behind her back, her giggle turned into a breathless gasp.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping you from taking off the blindfold, of course.” He held her wrists with one of his hands, and she felt him wriggle a little behind her.

“So you don’t trust me.”

“I do. Trust you. To be honest…” He paused, and Belle felt something smooth slide around her wrists and pull them together. “I just wanted to see how you would look like, bound with my tie.”

Another kiss sent another shiver down her spine, and heat rose in her belly. She reminded herself that she trusted him. And his tie was not really a restraint at all. “And how do I look?” She sounded just as breathless as she felt.

“You make me forget that I wanted to take you shopping. Now I just want to take you.”

“Um…”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be fair.” She felt his hand on her elbow as he guided her out. He was taking her out the back door, and she realized that he did it so no one would see her like this, bound and blindfolded, and she was grateful for his consideration. “Careful, sweetheart”, he said as they reached his car, and he took care that she didn’t knock herself out by putting his hand on the crown of her head and gently pushing her down. When she was seated, he buckled her up, kissing her fleetingly on the corner of her lips.

They drove for quite a while, longer than Belle had ever driven somewhere in Storybrooke, and she started to get nervous when they finally reached their destination.

“Can I take off the blindfold now?” she asked, and she felt Robert’s hand at her side when he opened her seatbelt.

“No, sweetheart.” His voice was like the purr of a cat, and it sounded definitely smug.

“You won’t take me into a shop like this, will you?”

He chuckled. “We’re not going into a shop. This is something much more private.”

“Oh.” Belle was not sure what she should make out of this. Where were they? And he didn’t really expect her to go shopping with him without seeing anything? Her nerve endings tingled, and she felt tense. When he opened the door of the car at her side and helped her out, she trembled. He was close, and she could smell his scent, fresh and clean, and at the same time she realized that they no longer were in town. She heard birds, and smelled trees. Woods.

Robert must have noticed her nervousness, because he closed his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. “You don’t have to do this, sweetheart. I just want to create some new memories for you. I want you to remember how this felt. If I only take you to a shop and sit idly by as you chose something, we will forget about it, because it’s nothing out of the ordinary. I want every moment with you to be special. I want us to remember this. But if you feel uncomfortable, just slip out of the tie and take off the blindfold. It’s absolutely ok.” 

Belle swallowed. “Will someone see me like this?”

He kept silent for a moment, and Belle was short of slipping his silk tie from her wrists and end this, when he answered. “One person, yes. Jefferson.”

“What?”

“Well, what did you think where he got all those shoes for you? He sells them.”

“Oh.” She had never thought about that. She was not sure if she trusted Jefferson enough to let him see her like this, but she trusted Robert. And Jefferson was his friend. “Wait, when Jefferson is with us…who’s watching Bae?”

Robert let go of her and stepped back, but his hand never left her. He was still holding her gently above her elbow. “He’s with a friend today. Henry Mills. You don’t have to worry about him.”

“Ok.” Belle took a deep breath. And relaxed a little. At least she tried to.

“Are you ok with this?” Robert asked, and she felt his touch on her chin, grazing her jaw, oh so very gentle.

“Yes.” He kissed her, then, and Belle loved how his lips felt on hers, warm and not too soft, just right. When he led her away from the car, gravel crunched beneath the sole of her shoes, and she heard the wind whisper and rustle in the trees.

“Careful, there are three steps up to the door.” Robert helped her, and then knocked at the door with his cane. They didn’t have to wait long, but Belle was nervous again. But she didn’t have time to ponder, as the door swung open, with a faint scratch over the floor, and Jefferson’s voice greeted them.

“Robert. Belle. I already thought you would stand me up.” He didn’t sound in the least surprised to see her bound and blindfolded. Maybe he had a very good composure. Or Robert had warned him. Maybe it all had been Jefferson’s idea. Robert led her inside, and into a room that felt bright and warm.

“Sit down, darling.”

Belle sank down onto a couch, gingerly and half afraid she might miss it. “When can I take off the blindfold?”

“Whenever you want. But I’d like to pick out the shoes for you and surprise you.”

Belle sucked in air, and heat rushed through her. Letting him pick shoes for her, and try them on her feet, while she was blind and bound…part of her wanted it, wanted to relish the feeling, wanted to give herself completely over and trust him. Part of her was more reluctant, and scolded herself for trusting him so easily. But she wanted to be brave, for him as much as for herself. And really, it was not that big of a deal. “Ok”, she said. She heard his suit rustling when he got down on his knees in front of her.

“Thank you, Belle.” She could almost hear Robert’s smile in his voice, and it soothed her fluttering nerves. But when his hands slid down her calves to take off the shoes she was wearing, her breath hitched in her throat.

“I have a small selection of shoes here that I think you both might like.” That was Jefferson’s voice. She heard him shuffling around, and then a dull thud when he placed something on the floor beside Robert. “I leave you two to try them on…” He sounded doubtful, as if he was not sure if they would leave it at the fitting. Belle was not sure either when she felt Robert’s breath gust over her knee. He opened a paper box, and she heard the tissue paper rustling when he took out a shoe. She smelled leather, and heard the sound of him opening a zipper. When he lifted her first foot from the ground to help her slide into the shoe – boots, probably, from the way they enclosed her ankles – he pressed a kiss to her knee before closing the zipper. He put on the second one just as careful, and his fingertips ghosted over the skin of her calves and the back of her thighs, touches that seemed unintentional, but sent her spinning with sensations.

“How do they feel?” he asked, and Belle pressed her heels down to get a feel for the shoes.

“I don’t know…I think the shaft is a bit high. And they are heavy.”

“I agree. They look massive. We need something a little more delicate.” He took the shoes off again and replaced them with the next pair, just as gentle and careful as before. He didn’t touch her in any way erotic, but every touch tickling over her skin increased the heat in her lower belly, and between her legs. And this made her cheeks burn, because she was sure that he had to notice it, too. It took him a little longer to close the second pair of boots.

“Those are a little scratchy”, Belle said.

“They’re made of lace. With buttons, a little like Victorian lace boots.”

Belle could tell that he liked the buttons quite a lot, and she smiled. Still, the boots felt scratchy. “They’re also a little loose.”

“Oh, well. Let’s try another pair, then.”

Her feet slipped into the next pair as if they were made for her alone, molded around her feet. Perfect.

“Ah. Third one’s the charm.” Robert closed the clasp at her heel and trailed her calves with his fingertips. “I think we’ll take those.”

“How do they look?” Belle was curious, and almost slipped the tie from her wrists with the excitement bubbling inside her.

“As if they belong onto your feet.” He lifted her right leg up and placed it on his shoulder, kissing the inside of her calf. This time, his touch was definitely erotic, as he slid his palm up her leg, up the inside of her thigh, under her skirt, and right to her center. Belle moaned, and moaned again when he bit the inside of her knee.

“Robert…Jefferson…” God, she hoped he knew what she wanted to say, because she had only a vague idea.

“Don’t worry, he won’t interrupt us.”

Somehow his words turned into a bucket of ice water, doused over her head. She slipped off the tie that bound her wrists by pulling them apart, so the knot loosened, and removed the blindfold from her eyes. Robert knelt at her feet, watching her with the expression of a kitten that just fell into water.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked. Of course he would think that.

“No. But I feel…uncomfortable. I don’t want to do this, here…” She was not sure how to describe her sudden panic. She had taken her clothes off in front of a whole club full of watchers, and it had not mattered to her. This was different. Much more intimate. And even if she knew Jefferson was not nearby, the idea of letting Robert proceed while they were in Jefferson’s house – and he probably knew exactly what they were doing – put out the flame of her desire.

“It’s alright. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed you.” He looked genuinely worried, and Belle loved him all the more for it. Another man might have reacted differently, scolded her, or gotten angry with her for not being able to relax and just let it happen. And if he had reacted that way, he would have seen the last of her, that much she knew. She sat up straight, bringing her feet back to the floor, and for the first time, she looked at the shoes.

“Oh my god, they’re gorgeous.” And they were. Delicate black lace enclosed the arch of her feet, and thin black straps closed around her heels. And they were high. Robert loved her in high heels, apparently.

“I’m glad you like them. I’m only sorry I ruined the memory for you.” He still knelt in front of her, and Belle cupped his cheeks and tilted his head up to face her.

“You didn’t ruin the memory, or the moment. On the contrary, you showed me that you care for me, and respect me. That’s so much more important to me.” When she bent down to kiss him, he looked at her, wide-eyed, as if he was not sure if he could believe her.

Jefferson smiled at their choice and told Robert he would send him an invoice, since this was a price category that decent people didn’t speak about aloud, and Belle was instantly afraid that the shoes cost too much. But when she wanted to express that, Robert shushed her. Literally.

“Belle, I want to give you these. Period.”

She stopped protesting then, but she still couldn’t believe his generosity when they drove home and she held the box with the shoes on her lap. She only began to suspect that there was another motive behind his gift when he turned off the car in front of his house and turned to her, his face serious, and somehow, above his brows, guilty.

“I have to tell you something.”

Belle looked down at the box in her lap, and suddenly it seemed to get hot and burn right through her skirt. What if the shoes were kind of an appeasement? What could he possibly have to tell her?

“What is it?”

“You remember that I proposed to find your siblings?”

It had been only two days ago. Of course she remembered. “And I told you not to.”

“Yes. It was kind of…already too late.”

He sounded definitely guilty. He sounded as if he expected her to explode. Well, given his experience with her from the past, he was not so far off with that. Belle inhaled, and tightened her spine, and her abs. She felt as if she had to suck in air against a resistance, as if the air around her suddenly had the consistency of tar.

“What does that mean?” she asked, and was amazed that her voice didn’t tremble. She knew what it meant. She tried to shut out the memories that flooded her. She was not the only one who had blamed her when her family broke apart. Maybe it was irrational, and maybe, over the years, their antipathy had worn off. But Amy and Philip had hated her. She was the reason their life got worse. She was the reason Ariel came into hell on earth and killed herself. She didn’t want to face Amy, or Philip. She didn’t want to remember Ariel.

“Miss Swan, the woman specialized in finding people, had already found them. And they wanted to talk. They wanted to see you again.”

“You should have asked me.” She realized that she sounded like a broken record.

“I know. I’m asking you now. They’re here, in Storybrooke, to see you. But if you don’t want to, I’m driving you home, and will tell them to leave.”

It was too much to process. First Milah showed up, now this. It was as if her life decided to have a meltdown in Storybrooke, in the middle of nowhere, Maine. “They’re in your house right now?” she asked, and hated herself for the panic that shone through her voice. She squeaked, like a trapped mouse.

“No, they’re staying at Granny’s. But they want to come over later.”

“You had no right to do this.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but it was already kind of out of my hands.”

Belle bit her lip. Her heart raced, and she felt as if she was about to vomit any moment. _Be brave_ , she told herself. _Be brave_. _Trust him_.

“Shall I drive you home?” Robert had taken her hand in his and squeezed gently. He was there. At her side. He wouldn’t allow anything to happen to her. He had almost lost it when that Killian had kind of insulted her. She could rely on him.

“No. I’ll stay. Just…if you could hop in front of me if they’ll try to kill me, that would be really nice of you.” She didn’t look at him, and he squeezed her hand again.

“I’ll defend you with my life. But I don’t think they’re here to kill you.”

Belle wished this was true. She doubted it, though, but she didn’t voice her fears and doubts when she followed him into the house to wait for her doom. 

 

  

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Notes: [Those are the shoes](http://suchadearie.tumblr.com/post/60202066347/jimmy-choo-maylen-lace-and-suede-stiletto-pumps)    


	19. To meet again

Belle dried her hands with a kitchen towel and stared out of the window. Robert had asked her if it was ok to leave her for a short time, while he was picking up Bae. Of course it was ok. She was not a little girl, and she could be alone in his house for half an hour. She only hoped that Amy and Philip would not arrive while he was away. He could not protect her when he was away.

Belle stared out of the window, into the garden, but she saw nothing. She saw Amy and Philip’s faces, tear stained, and she remembered the face of the social worker as if it had been yesterday, although she had never seen that woman again. It took her a while to realize that the sound she heard was not Ariel’s sobbing, but the kettle on the stove, whistling and sputtering boiling water. She turned off the heat and poured the water into a teapot. The smell of black tea filled the kitchen, and Belle tried to cling to the comfy feeling it created, and tried to forget the fear gnawing at her insides. She resumed her staring out of the window, and jumped when the front door burst open and Bae stormed in, tossing his backpack into the hallway.

“Bae, please pick that up. I’m going to break a leg some day…” Robert trailed off when he stepped into the kitchen and his eyes found her. Belle smiled, even when she was not really sure how to do it anymore. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Belle bit her lip to keep herself from crying. But then she squared her shoulders and scolded herself for being so afraid.

“See, we’re back in time.”

“Back in time for what?” Bae had picked up his backpack and came into the kitchen, tossing it on a chair, where it slowly tipped sideways and toppled over the edge, to the floor. Belle watched it falling as if it was in slow motion.

“Belle is going to have visitors”, Robert explained, and Bae frowned.

“Doesn’t she have her own flat now?” he asked.

“Yes, but I invited them here.”

It was in this moment that the bell rang, and Bae’s face lit up and he hopped out of the kitchen and to the front door. Belle was unable to move, and Robert stepped to her, hugging her and kissing her forehead. “It will be alright, Belle. I’m here with you.” He let go of her and joined Bae at the door. Belle heard voices, heard Robert talking, and another man, and women…She had to grab the kitchen counter to keep herself up.

“Belle, Papa says I should come to get you…” Bae came back, and Belle let him take her hand into his small and warm one and let him pull her out of the kitchen.

Robert had led them into his living room, and Belle was shocked to see so many aces turn towards her when she entered the room. She had not expected this many people. She recognized Amy, unmistakable in her beauty, though she still had that fierce look that had led to them calling her Mulan when they were kids. She had always been a warrior, and Belle had always envied her for it. Their eyes met, and it seemed to Belle as if the years between now and their last encounter were stripped away. Amy had never been one that liked to be touched, or touch someone herself, but now she was at Belle’s side in an instant and pulled her into a fierce hug. And after hesitating only for the length of an heartbeat, Belle returned the hug just as fierce.

“Belle”, Amy said, and her voice trembled.

“Oh Amy.” Belle couldn’t hold back her tears, and she closed her eyes to keep them from falling. When she opened them again, Philip was there, too, and took over the hug. Belle was not sure if she was crying or laughing, but right now she didn’t care. But when the hugging was over, and there were still faces turned towards her that she didn’t know, Belle was nervous again. An awkward silence enveloped them, and Belle was grateful when Robert came to her side to guide her to the couch and made her sit beside him.

“Belle, this is Miss Swan, she found your siblings and accompanied them here.” He indicated the blonde who stood a little in the back, her arms crossed and as tense as if she was about to bolt any moment. Belle felt for her, since she was just as nervous. She nodded, and Miss Swan returned the gesture.

“And this is Aurora, my fiancé.” Philip had taken the hand of the last woman in the room, and Belle smiled at her, a smile that was returned somehow insecure.

“Wow. You look all so…grown up.” Belle felt stupid the moment the words were out, but the last time she had seen her siblings, they had been teenagers. Amy had been thirteen, and Philip twelve. that was fourteen years ago. Half a lifetime, for them.

“Yeah, well…you do, too.” Philip tried at least to smile at her, while Amy just sat there, close to Aurora, and stared at Belle. Her gaze was so intense that Belle started to fear she had something on her skin…Maybe nervous zits, or the most unhealthy flush imaginable. Belle noticed that her thoughts were scrambled and didn’t make sense. She remembered the tea, and leapt to her feat, making everyone jump.

“I – I’m sorry, the tea. I forgot about the tea…” She fled the room, and the looks, and almost fell over her feet in her hurry to get out of there and into the kitchen. Panting, clasping her sides, she bent over behind the kitchen counter and tried to breathe back the panic. _Be brave_ , she repeated, again and again. _Be brave_.

“Can I help you?”

Belle shrieked, and jumped, before she surfaced out of her hiding place to face Amy. Amy’s face was still unmoving, so serious, and Belle had no idea what to make out of it. It was as if the first hug had never existed.

“Yes…We need a tray. Cups…” Belle looked around, and indicated a tray to Amy, before fetching the cups. The delicate porcelain clinked in her trembling hands.

“Is your boyfriend good to you?” There was a force in Amy’s question that startled Belle, and one of the cups slipped her grip and dropped to the floor. Amy bit her lip, scrunching her face, as if she expected an explosion from the cup. She bent down and picked it up. Thankfully, it was not broken.

“It’s chipped”, Amy said, placing it carefully on the counter. Then she looked back to Belle, piercing her with her gaze.

“Why would you think he isn’t good to me?” Belle arranged the remaining cups on the tray, taking care that all handles faced into the same direction.

“I don’t. But I’m good at seeing people’s heart. And he seems…well, never mind. You chose this.” It sounded as if Belle had chosen to stay in prison. As if it was something disdainful. As if she had not chosen a person, but a situation.

“Amy, that was a very rude thing to say, and I have no idea why you think it would be ok to come here and decide after one short glimpse at my life, that I’m staying in a situation that is somehow not good for me, or unhealthy. You think you’re good at seeing what is in people’s hearts? Well, you’re wrong. You have no idea about his heart, or mine.” Belle was talking herself into a rant, but she was too upset to stop, even though she realized that she, maybe, was overreacting.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Amy blushed a little, and looked down. “I’m sorry, Belle. He’s just so much older, and he has a kid, and…”

“And all this still doesn’t give you any right to judge me.”

“You’re right.” Amy grazed the chip cup with her fingertips, and Belle felt almost compelled to apologize. But she didn’t. Amy inhaled deeply and straightened. “Look”, she said, “I’m sorry. I just have this compulsion to fight, and to protect, and I had a lot of time to realize that nothing of what happened was your fault, or anybody’s…”

Belle lifted her brows and shrugged at that. “My dad’s”, she supplied, matter of fact, and Amy shrugged, too.

“Probably, yes. But you did a lot for us, and gave up a lot for us, so I just want to make sure that you’re ok. We were looking for you for a while now, but your dad wasn’t very cooperative, so when Emma showed up…Well, we were happy. But you have to admit that your Mr. Gold is creepy.”

“Am I?”

Both women spun to the kitchen entrance, where Robert was leaning on his cane, frowning slightly. Belle had to choke down a giggle.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. Sneaking around.” Amy took the tray and slipped past Robert, and his eyes followed her, narrowed to slits. Belle stepped to him and lifted herself up to tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Everyone is so protective of me today”, she said.

“I only checked if you are ok. And I hardly spoke three words with her.” He sounded defensive, and Belle placed her hand on top of his on the cane and squeezed them.

“I know. I think she may have a general problem with men. It’s nothing personal.”

Belle was much calmer now, and she even managed to have a conversation with Aurora, though the woman had the irritating habit of blinking in slow motion and thinking with closed eyes. And if Philip hadn’t introduced her as his fiancé, Belle would have suspected she was Amy’s girlfriend, with the way her sister sat close to her, and always had her arm around her. This amazed Belle most of all, since Amy had always been so touch-sensitive. But then, Philip and Amy seemed to take turns in holding Aurora, so maybe they had some kind of threesome going on. Not that it was in any way Belle’s place to judge. She was just curious. And she was stunned to find that her siblings were adults. Real adults, with a life, and a plan, and a place. Amy was a martial arts trainer with her own studio – “horribly stereotypical, right?”, she said, and Belle grinned – and Philip worked as a coachman for a business that lent coaches – “Always the right carriage to your marriage”, he quoted, and this made them laugh. So, after the first awkward moments, they got along. But not one of them brought up Ariel, and Belle didn’t intend to be the one to broach the subject. They silently, without a word, agreed not to talk about Ariel. Miss Swan kept at the back, and at some point vanished with Robert, probably to talk about her fee, and after two hours, the small group of visitors left. Bae had settled on the couch beside Belle, and his head rested against her shoulder. He had fallen asleep with a cookie still in his hand, and Belle was covered in itchy crumbles, but she didn’t want to stir Bae and wake him up, so her siblings bent down to kiss her good bye, promising to meet again the next day, before they would leave for home again, and Robert led them to the door.

When he came back, he halted in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe for a moment and watching her with a smile on his face that filled Belle with warmth from head to toe. He looked so…content. She was tired, and wrung out from all the emotions she had lived through this day – starting with their shoe shopping, and culminating in the reunion with her siblings. So she would have been content to just close her eyes, lean her cheek on Bae’s head, and sleep with him in her arms on the couch.

“Let me help you”, Robert whispered, coming over to pick Bae out of her arms.

“You cannot carry him upstairs. Let me do it.” Belle shifted Bae’s weight around and into her arms, and the boy sighed in his sleep and put his arms around her neck. He was not very heavy – after all, he was just a little boy – but Belle was glad nevertheless when she managed to put him into his bed without any major accident. He sighed again when she covered him with his blanket – it had super hero covers, and Belle smiled when he pulled up the covers to his nose and smiled in his sleep. Robert had followed her, and now he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, sweet and gently.

“I waited for that all evening” Taking her hand, he led her into his bedroom, and Belle protested only half heartedly – they needed to clean away the dishes from the tea, needed to switch out the lights downstairs – but he just ignored her.

“It’s alright, I’ll do that later.” He made her sit on the edge of his bed, sitting down next to her, and started to pick the cookie crumbs out of her hair, and from her dress. Belle was too tired to move, too exhausted to do anything than just sit and let him care for her. And his gentle care warmed her more thoroughly than even a heating blanket ever could. She felt tears well up, and squeezed her eyes shut. There was absolutely no reason to be this emotional, she told herself, but she was just too tired to listen to her reason. She leaned into his embrace and buried her face in that space between his jaw and his shoulder that seemed to be made just for her, so she could press her nose to his neck and inhale his scent and feel his skin beneath her lips.

While she snuggled close, he opened the zipper at the back of her dress, to peel her out of it. Belle had no idea what exactly his intentions were right now, but she didn’t care. She was half asleep in his arms, and when he lifted up her chin to make her look at him, she noticed that she had drooled a little on his shirt. He smiled, and wiped his thumb over her lips.

“Let me put you into some of my pajamas, darling, and tuck you in, alright?” He spoke with a low voice, and the sound of it alone would have been able to put her to sleep. He was so calm, so soothing…Belle didn’t even realize when he helped her into his pajamas and tucked her under the covers, she just listened to him and his nonsensical words, a soft humming that lulled her to sleep.

All in all, they day had not been that bad.


	20. Sharks in the Pool, bathe with caution

Belle contemplated if she should stop at the shop and bring Robert a cup of coffee from the diner. And a blueberry muffin. Right now, she would have killed for a blueberry muffin.

Robert had already been gone when she woke up, and Belle was not even sure if he had slept at her side or not. His side of the bed looked untouched, and it worried her a bit. Had he slept at all? And where? And why not at her side? She was a little unsettled by it, and she ordered three blueberry muffins at the diner, and two coffee to go. She ate one of the muffins on her way to his shop (to make it look as if she had bought one for each of them, and so she didn’t look greedy), and managed to spill coffee over her coat and shirt, which left her cursing and even more frustrated.

“Brilliant, Belle, you’re a walking catastrophe”, she growled at herself, but she forgot all about the stains and how she looked when she reached the shop and saw the yellow bug in front of it. That was Emma Swans bug. Belle had been sure that they had discussed their business the day before, while she had chatted with her siblings. What else could they have to talk about?

She kicked open the door to the shop a little harsher than she normally would, but she tried to excuse it to herself with her full hands. Nevertheless, when she spotted Robert behind the counter and Miss Swan on the other side of it, both looking flabbergasted, as if they had been much closer only a moment before, and somehow guilty…She wished she had kicked in the glass.

“Hey”, Robert said, and Belle’s chest grew tight.

“Hey. I brought you a muffin and coffee…but I can come back later when it’s not a good time now.” She could, but then it would be without his muffin.

Miss Swan straightened, and shook her head.

“No, I was on my way out anyway. It was nice to meet you again.” She nodded at Belle, and dipped her head to Robert, who watched her stalk out of his shop with a look on his face that Belle didn’t like at all. There was a faint trace of a smile around his eyes, and Belle’s chest grew even tighter, and nausea heaved her stomach. He looked at Miss Swan like he had looked at her when she had been his nanny…as if he knew something about her that no one else knew. And she stood there, small, with coffee stains and muffin crumbles on her clothes and felt her insides burning as if she just had watched something forbidden.

“I hope you like blueberry muffins”, she choked out, and his eyes finally found her.

“I do”, he said, smiling, and came around the counter to take the bag from her and greet her with a kiss on the cheek.

“Did I interrupt something important?” she asked, while following him back to the counter and placing his coffee in front of him. She was sure he must have heard the trembling in her voice. But he was distracted by the stains on her clothes.

“What happened? Did you stumble?” His fingertips brushed over her coat, and over the stain on her shirt, just beneath her collarbone. So soft, so gentle. Belle stared at his hand.

“No. I was just clumsy…” All those words were just so meaningless. His fingers curled around the collar oh her coat and pulled her closer, oh so slowly, and she couldn’t tear away her gaze from his lips, from the smile that lingered there. “Why didn’t you come to bed tonight?” she asked, and her voice was much harsher than she had intended it to be. It broke the spell, and his eyes pierced into hers with sudden clarity. He let go of her coat.

“I didn’t want to wake you. You needed the rest. I slept in the guest room.” He cocked his head, and Belle felt stupid for being suspicious, for even feeling bothered at all.

“I’m sorry” she whispered, and looked down. His tie was tied in a perfect knot. Everything about him was impeccable, and here she stood, stained, covered in crumbs, feeling like a scarecrow.

“For what?”

Right. Sometimes she forgot that he couldn’t read her mind. She forgot that her mind was a labyrinth, and her thoughts hopped through it like hares, vanishing in and out of sight with the kind of illogical suddenness that even scared herself sometimes. This was the reason why she used to walk out of conversation, because she needed time to think. Because her first reaction was not always the wisest, because her words left her with nothing but scrambled feels. His mind worked as precise as the gears of a clock. When she didn’t answer, he stepped closer, so close she almost felt him on her skin, through all her layers of clothes, and tilted her head up with his fingertips beneath her chin.

“Belle, I love you. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s just a lot right now. I’m not sure if I keep up with processing.”

He nodded, as if he understood. As if her words made perfect sense to him. Very gentle, as if afraid she might shatter at his touch, he caressed her cheek, and smiled. “You’re strong, Belle. You will get through every hardship, and be just a little stronger afterwards.”

“Do you think so?”

“I do. Now tell me, did you already eat my blueberry muffin?” He picked at a crumb on her coat, and Belle felt her cheeks burn.

“No. I bought three, so I could eat two.”

He chuckled. “You don’t need to eat secretly, dear.”

Belle lifted her chin, and stared straight into his eyes. They were still too close to each other as that her gaze could be intimidating, but his eyes grew sharp, his pupils like pinheads.

“Never do that again”, she said, out of the blue, and she saw that he had no idea what she meant.

“Never do what again?”

“Sleep in the guest room. I want us to sleep in the same bed when we sleep over. You can’t just tuck me into your bed and leave me there.” She had not noticed it, but her hand had grabbed his suit jacket, and clawed at it. Now they both stared down, and Belle wondered if her body had its own will. If her body knew more than she knew.

“I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“I don’t care if you disturb me. I care if you leave me without kissing me in the morning, and look at Emma Swan as if you wanted to sleep with her!”

“What?” He took a step back, and Belle thought she would throw up. She hadn’t meant to say that. That ugly, unreasonable thing that she didn’t even want to acknowledge. It didn’t exist.

“What exactly is it that you are so afraid of?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“But you meant it. Perhaps you should stay at your place tonight and think about what it is that you want.” He took another step back and turned away, and it was as if there was a completely different man in his place, one Belle didn’t know, and didn’t want to know. Within minutes, Belle had managed to ruin it completely, to chase away the tenderness and destroy his trust in her. Because she let slip her fear.

“You don’t want me to come over?” She bit the inside of her cheeks and tried to overcome the trembling at the back of her throat, tried to fight back the prickle in her eyes. She had no reason to cry. Apparently her eyes thought otherwise, and everything in her vision became a little blurry and watery. She snuffled, and tried to tarn it as a cough.

“Belle, I want to see you every day, and every night, but I want you to be sure that it is what you want, too. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Will you come with me to meet Amy and Philip, at least?”

He looked at her, his forehead wrinkled, and Belle knew he would refuse. She swallowed down the lump in her throat, and smiled, shaky and not very honest maybe, but at least she smiled.

“I think you should spend some time alone with your siblings. I would only be in the way, and Amy might come at me with a sword, for whatever reason. Maybe she’s afraid of toads.”

“Maybe she likes French cooking. Frog legs, you know.” It was safer to jest. Safer to act as if everything was fine, and ignore the feel of muriatic acid biting through her insides.

“Yes. You know, your kisses will never turn me into the prince you deserve.” He said it lightly, as if it didn’t mean anything to him, but his façade had become transparent for Belle. She had not realized the exact moment when it happened, but now, when she looked away from her own misery, she saw through his act, and saw the fear roaring just beneath the surface. God, she had been so soaked up in her own fear and panic that she had not seen how afraid he was. Afraid she might see him and reject him like everyone else did. See him like Amy had seen him. The realization knocked the breath out of her lungs, hit her just beneath her breastbone. He was afraid because he, too, felt as if he was not enough.

“I’m not a princess. I don’t need a prince. And besides, the princess never kissed that toad. She smashed him against a wall and broke his curse.”

“Please don’t smash me against a wall. It won’t work.”

Belle stepped forward, closed the distance between them, and took his hand. “Maybe I will shove you against a wall, but I promise you’ll like it.”

He looked down at her hand holding his, with a sad smile, and Belle wondered if she had to _show_ him to make him believe. They definitely were better at expressing their feels without words. Words only got in the way, messing everything up.

“So you already made up your mind?” he asked, almost timidly, and Belle wondered what was wrong with her for ever doubting him.

“I want you to be mine. I want you, the toad, the man who loves to screw people over, the man who delights in deals, and the man who is terribly afraid of making his son miserable. I want the man who fired me, and forgets how to talk, and I want you to be mine. I want to be yours. That is what I want.”

“I’m glad.” He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, in a gesture that was heartbreakingly clumsy, and he let out his breath as if he had held it in since the moment she stepped into his shop.

“I guess I was still a little exhausted”, she said, not sure how she should explain the overflow of emotions she had felt that morning. Then another thought hit her. “Oh.”

“Hm?” He lifted his eyebrows.

“I guess it’s that time of the month again…” She blushed, and Robert chuckled.

“Well, then…Shall I bring you chocolate after work?”

“Maybe another blueberry muffin…”

He smiled, and nudged the bag with the muffins from Granny’s towards her. “Take mine.”

When Belle left the shop, with both blueberry muffins in the paper bag, she was relieved. They had managed to talk about what had upset them, maybe in metaphors and allegories, but at least they _had_ talked, before Belle walked out on him again. She would stay at her place tonight, yes, if only because she was sure she would be reduced to a crying mess at the end of the day, and she would just want to curl up with a hot-water bottle, hot cocoa and her favorite movie. And she didn’t trust herself enough. Probably she’d manage to create another fight, just because her emotions were all tangled and she was overcharged with hormones. Besides, sex was out of the question, anyway.

She met Amy, Philip and Aurora in the afternoon in Granny’s diner, without Miss Swan this time, and Amy (not Aurora or Philip) invited Belle to their wedding next May. Belle noted the date, with a small surge of excitement, because it meant she would have to buy shoes then, and hopefully she would buy them with Robert.

“I can bring Robert with me, right?” Belle asked, and Amy rolled her eyes.

“When you’re still together and he absolutely has to come…”

“Amy!” Aurora looked as if she couldn’t believe what Amy had just said. It was the first time that Belle heard her speak up, say something that didn’t sound dreamily or soft or passive. “Of course she can bring Mr. Gold along.”

Philip looked around as if he was searching for the emergency exit. Amy straightened, and glared at Aurora.

“I don’t trust him. You heard Emma.”

That got Belle’s attention. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing” Philip and Aurora said in unison, but Amy stared down at her plate as if she was contemplating to murder her cake.

“Amy?”

“She just told us that he’s a little shady. Something about him just isn’t quite right, and if she didn’t have to hold up her end of a deal, she would refuse to work for him at all.”

“What deal?” Belle assumed that maybe Miss Swan just hadn’t paid enough attention to the small print when she made her deal, and was a little pissed now, but she couldn’t get the picture of the two of them out of her head, looking so…intimate.

“Ask her.” That was all Belle could wriggle out of Amy, so she gave it a rest. When they parted, Belle couldn’t hold back the tears, even when they promised to meet again soon, and call often. Watch them drive away felt like losing them all over again.

After that, Belle finally got home, where she changed into her oldest and most comfortable sweatpants, wrapped herself into a blanket with her hot-water bottle and settled on her dusty old couch, sobbing helplessly over _Love, actually_ – who cared if it was Christmas or not – and waited for the cramps and the emotions to pass. She actually drifted off to sleep, and it took her a while to come out of it again, and to realize what woke her up. There was a knock at her door. A persistent knock.

Wrapped into her blanket and holding on to the wobbly hot-water bottle on her stomach – though only luke-warm by now – she stumbled to the door of her tiny apartment to chase away whoever had decided to torment her. Of course it was Robert. He grinned through the fish-eye, and Belle opened the door, sighing. Before she could say a word, Bae appeared behind his father’s back and slipped into the flat.

“Hi Belle! We brought you something to eat, and I have a present for you, and Papa says we need to care for you because you are sick…” He hopped to the couch and placed a big paper bag on it.

“I thought…” Belle was not sure what she had expected. “You said I should stay home and think.”

Robert crossed the threshold, grinning, with another paper bag in his hand. Belle smelled heaven coming out of that bag. Warm, buttery, sweet heaven.

“You brought me muffins?”

“Yes, dear. I thought you needed time to think, but I never wanted you to stay away because you’re miserable. You don’t need to protect us from you when you don’t feel well.”

Of course Belle started crying again, and she could not even stop when she registered Bae’s shocked little face peeping over the back of her couch. Robert pulled her into his arms and held her until the sobs subsided, and whispered nonsense into her hair.

“What’s wrong with Belle?” Bae asked, and Belle half snorted, half choked into Robert’s shirt.

“That’s nothing to be worried about, Bae. All she needs is someone to cuddle her and someone to make her hot cocoa. Do you want to do the cuddling or the cocoa?”

Belle snorted again, and peeped over Robert’s arm to Bae, who chewed on his bottom lip and tried to decide if it was better to cuddle with a crying girl or try to make a hot cocoa, something he had clearly not the least idea how to do.

“I will cuddle her, but she has to promise to stop crying. I don’t want snot on my sweater.”

“I’ll try my best.” Belle managed to answer herself, and Robert patted her back and smiled, before vanishing into her kitchen. Belle felt her cheeks warm with the memory what had happened the last time he had been in her kitchen. She settled on the couch again, one arm around Bae, and he took the bag he had brought with him and took out a paper box.

“I brought you a present. I made it myself, with only a little help from Papa.” He placed the box on her lap, and watched her with his face glowing, as if he was getting the present. Belle smiled and tried to hold back a new wave of tears.

“That’s so nice of you”, she whispered, opening the box.

“It’s shoes!” Bae chirped, as Belle lifted one of the ballerinas out of the box. Sparkly dust rippled down onto her. “I glued glitter and gems to it, see?”

Of course Belle spilled new tears, and when Robert came out of the kitchen, Bae looked as if he wanted to hide somewhere. “I think I broke her”, he whispered, as if she was a piece of porcelain. Belle seized him and hugged him, and swallowed down the tears. It really started to get ridiculous. Poor Bae.

“I’m only chipped. I love your present, the shoes are wonderful, and I’m going to wear them tomorrow, and I will leave a trail of glitter all over town, like a fairy!” When she put the shoe back into the box, her hand and her blanket and everything was covered in glitter. But she couldn’t be happier, not even if Robert and Bae had stayed for the night after fixing her a cocoa and a blueberry muffin.

As it was, she spent the night alone and contemplated how nice it would be to live in the same house again, and to be a family. To cuddle as a family on the couch, all three of them. But Robert had not asked her to move in with him again, and Belle wondered if he ever would. Although, this morning, he had said he wanted to see her day and night. That meant he wanted to live with her, right?

  


	21. The ugly Truth

It was not often that Gold didn’t enjoy to reap the rewards of his deals. He loved that particular moment when someone realized that he had bargained for more than he could swallow. Loved to see how they tried to get out of there deals, just to fail. With Emma Swan, it was a little more complicated. She never trusted him enough to actually give him the opportunity to screw her over.

“I have no idea what you have going on with that girl, and honestly, I don’t care. We’re even now, so I want you to give me the information, and never call me again.” Emma leaned over the counter and tried to threaten him with her glare.

“Ah, but dearie, it was never something for nothing.”

“It never is with you. What does she have to do to get _that_ from you, I wonder.” She handed him the envelope with all the information he needed to get his hands on Belle’s father.

“None of your business.” He skimmed through the papers, and his heart lurched in his chest. It was even better than he had hoped. He could ruin the man. And he would.

Emma stretched out her hand, waiting for her end of the bargain, and he gave her the envelope that contained all she needed to know. She peeked inside.

“You’re sure it’s him?”

“I don’t trade in assumptions, dear. It’s him.” He allowed himself to smile when he detected the bloodlust in Emma’s eyes. He didn’t envy August W. Booth, because it looked as if he would get skinned alive. She brought her face even closer to his, but he didn’t back down.

“We’re done, then. Never call me again.” It was a hiss, and he had a snide remark on the tip of his tongue, but this was the moment Belle walked in on them, and by the way she looked, confusion and hurt in her eyes, she misinterpreted his clinch with Miss Swan completely. Silently, he cursed, and contemplated how to get back at Emma, while he watched her stalk out.

It was much easier to get at Moe French than he had thought. Gold was very efficient when it came to create dead-ends, and Moe provided him with enough means to make this the deadest of dead ends. When he called him to make him aware of the new terms of his loans – now neatly united in one package – the man was stumped at first, then shocked over the increased interests; he shouldn’t have borrowed from loan sharks in the first place, though it was much easier for Gold to take over the loans from them than from a bank.

So, for a while, everything was perfect. He found a routine with Belle that made not only him, but Bae happy, and they almost felt like a real family, although Belle still lived in her own apartment, and gave no sign that she wanted to move in with him again. Now and then, he hinted at it, told her how he wanted to see her night and day, but she never took the bait. He wanted her to suggest it, because he didn’t want her to feel as if he was taking over her life, or clipping away her independence. And he wanted to know that she really wanted it, that she didn’t agree solely because he asked her to. But she never talked about moving in.

She cared for Bae, picked him up from school on three days of the week, took him to the library or the playground, or the woods, and made dinner with him in the evening. Those were the nights she spent with Gold at his place, the nights they shared a bed, and breakfast in the morning. It was more difficult for him to create the opportunity to stay at her place. He had to find a babysitter for Bae, and it always felt a little stiff, and awkward. He felt like an intruder then, like someone who didn’t belong there, someone who was granted an audience, but only reluctantly. He felt like a stranger there.

But all in all, he couldn’t remember a time when he had been happier than now, with Bae and Belle. He should have known it wouldn’t last, but he was a little surprised that it took Moe French almost six weeks to destroy it all.

Bae was on a play date with Henry Mills, and Gold was brimming with anticipation at having Belle to himself, in broad daylight. He imagined her naked on the Bordeaux-colored sheets, imagined to kiss every inch of her while he drove home from Regina Mills’ house. But when he opened the door to his home, and found Belle in the hallway, arms folded and shoulders squared, and an expression as if someone had ripped out her heart and stomped on it in front of her, he knew that kissing probably would have to wait.

“Belle. What’s wrong?” he asked, placing his coat on the clothes rack, with very careful and measured movements. He needed time to think.

“What were you thinking? Did you in all honesty think I wouldn’t find out about it?”

“Find out about what?”

“My dad called me.”

“Oh?” He could only hope that Moe had memorized the terms of their agreement never to speak to Belle about it.

“He said my boss had taken over all his debts and increased his interests at a rate that would leave him to starve within six months.”

No, Moe had not remembered the terms. Pity. “Did you tell him that I’m no longer your boss, but your lover?”

She lifted her chin, and he almost winced under the hard look he received. “That’s not the point, Robert.”

“Then what is the point?”

She thrust her hands into the air and turned around, stalking into the kitchen and leaving him standing in the hallway. He followed her slowly, trying to come up with an argument that didn’t paint him in the darkest of colors. Truth was, he wanted to punish her father, he had searched for an opportunity, and he had found and seized it. It never crossed his mind that she maybe wouldn’t approve of his measures. Well, maybe it _had_ crossed his mind.

“He’s still my dad. I don’t want him to starve. And I don’t want you to bleed him. You’ve got enough money. Really, why are you doing this?”

“I have my reasons.”

“And do you care to share them?” She was fidgeting with a cup, the one she had chipped, and he was half afraid she would throw it at him. He stepped closer. Normally he would keep his distance, wait for her to come to him, to allow him to touch her, but he felt as if it was important that he secured her, that he got his hands on her and kept her from walking out on him. All of a sudden he was afraid that she wouldn’t wait for his explanation. Or would not be satisfied with what little of an explanation he had to offer.

“I’m doing this for you”, he said, but she creased her forehead and shook her head. He stepped a little closer.

“How are you doing this for me? Do you think I enjoy to see my father suffer?”

Well, if she put it like that…There was a reason he hadn’t told her about it.

“Darling, I’m not gaining anything from it. The interests go completely on an extra account in your name.”

“That’s even worse! You make me an accomplice in ruining my own father!” Now her voice was shrill, and she was gesturing with the cup in her hand as if she wanted to break it on his skull. He clasped her wrist and pulled her closer, and he didn’t let go when she tried to slip out of his grip.

“I’m not making you anything. Did you know that your father had borrowed money with four different loan sharks? I merely gathered his debts. His interest now is reasonable enough, so he won’t starve. He just has to keep himself from gambling anything away. And I’m making sure you will inherit more than huge debts with shady loan sharks.”

“I never asked you for that.” She had given up on trying to get out of his grip, but there was so much disappointment in her voice, that it pierced him right through his guts.

“I’m just helping him to do right by you, for once in his life…”

“And who made you an expert in these things? Do you think me stupid?”

“Of course not, no.” Brave, beautiful, willing to sacrifice herself for those she loved, yes. Never stupid.

Belle’s chest was heaving with her ragged breathing, and her eyes glinted with unshed tears. “I don’t want him to do right by me. I don’t want him to do anything. And most of all, I don’t want _you_ to mess with my life.”

“Belle…”

“How could you ever think this was a good idea?”

He let go of her hands and stepped back. As much as he wanted to hold her, wanted to pull her into his arms and crush her with a tight embrace – and maybe place her on the kitchen table and take her without much ado – he realized that that would be a very bad idea.

“That’s why I didn’t tell you about it”, he said, knowing that it would make it only worse.

“And you thought you could keep it from me? Did it cross your mind that, maybe, if you knew you should probably not tell me about it, that you shouldn’t do it at all?”

“Yes.”

She lifted her eyebrows and looked as if she waited for him to continue. But he didn’t, so she finally asked: “And?”

“I decided against not doing it.”

“I begin to understand why people call you an ass.”

He had expected it, but it hurt nevertheless. It had to happen, someday, that she’d see his true self, and be disgusted by it. He had not expected it to sting like this, to prickle under his skin and make him want to crawl out of it. It was as if she was electrocuting his bones with her eyes. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry, but he was not. And she would detect a lie.

“Well, I never pretended to be anything else.”

Now she took a step back and brought even more distance between them. And looked as if he had just slapped her. Right now, the only thing that kept her from leaving was him, blocking her way out. He couldn’t bring himself to step aside. The chipped cup clinked when she placed it on the counter, with trembling hands, and he longed to reach for those hands. Longed to cross the distance, but it was as wide as a galaxy.

“Belle…” He didn’t know what to say. She was biting her lip, and he knew exactly that she wanted to keep herself from crying. She didn’t say anything, just shook her head and started for the door. She wanted to step around him, but he decided, in a split second, that he wouldn’t let her walk out like this. She stared at his hand on her arm as if it was poisonous, and he almost let her go again.

“Please don’t walk out on me”, he said, hoarse, and with a burning knot inside him, just beneath his breastbone.

“Give me one good reason.” She met his eyes, and it was almost too much to bear.

“I love you.”

“But I can’t trust you. You’re constantly making decisions for my life, without asking me. And yet, you don’t even want me to live with you.”

“But I want you to live with me.”

“You never said that.” She looked down at his hand again, but he didn’t let her go.

“I didn’t want to push you.”

“So you thought it’d be better to push me away?” She pulled at her arm and hissed when he tightened his grip. He would let her go if she wanted him to, if she said a word. But as long as she didn’t, he would hold on to her.

“I wanted you to say it. I wanted to hear it from you, that you really want to live with me. I wanted _you_ to make this decision.”

“Well, here it is: no. I don’t want to live with you.” She stopped pulling her arm away, and he could feel heat radiating from her. She was furious, and her anger flushed her face.

“Don’t say that. You’re angry at me now…Just think about it.” He hated the fear in his voice. He hated to see himself beg, and hated the idea that he might have lost her.

“Just tell me what you were thinking.” She sounded as desperate as he felt, and for one ridiculous moment he wished that her father had waited another day to call her, so he could have loved her at least once in broad daylight on his red sheets. Instead he was holding on to her for dear life, it seemed.

“I wanted to punish your father for what he did to you. For what he put you through. I wanted to see him suffer like you suffered.” It was the truth, ugly and naked, and it revealed his own darkness. He expected her to turn away, to shut him out once she saw what kind of person he really was.

He didn’t expect her to jump him, to wrap her arms around him and press herself to him as if he was keeping her from drowning. He staggered back, losing balance, and grabbed the kitchen counter to keep himself from falling. He couldn’t even protest, because she pressed her lips to his, in a wet and open mouthed kiss that knocked the air out of his lungs.

“Belle…” He managed to say her name between two kisses, but that was all she allowed.

“Shut up. I don’t approve what you did, and I don’t approve your methods, or your wish to punish someone on my behalf, but I love you for telling me the truth…” She kissed him between words, kissed is face and his lips, and his throat, and she was pulling on his tie and pressed her chest to his. He had no idea what exactly had happened, but apparently she was no longer mad at him. He needed to bury his hands in her hair, needed to hold her and touch her to believe that she really was in his arms. That she was not killing him with her heels. God, he needed to make sure that this was real, so he grabbed her waist and pushed her towards the kitchen table. Fuck the red sheets, he needed her now, and he was not in a state to climb the stairs. She didn’t let go of his tie, didn’t break the kiss, and hopped onto the table, pulling him between her legs. He nearly choked when he found himself so close to that heavenly place, so close to her, even when they were separated by what seemed to be all the fabric in the world.

“God, Belle, did I ever tell you that I love the way you dress?” he asked her between kisses, between nibbling and biting her neck and licking over her throat when her head fell back.

“You didn’t…” She squeaked when he grabbed her ass and pulled her closer, when his hands found their way under her skirt and to the waistband of her panties. He needed to be inside her, needed her, now, and he almost lost control when he felt her fingers fumbling with his pants, with the closure of his belt. She was just as greedy as he was, and their haste to get rid of the clothes that separated them made them clumsy. He eased her down onto the table and placed himself at her sex, spreading her folds with his fingertips. Heaven, she was already wet for him, and when he entered her, a shuddering laugh escaped him, almost a sob, accompanied by a groan deep in her throat, the sweetest music of all.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry, Belle”, he panted, and his hips jerked forward, bringing him deeper into that heat, that heavenly place. “I wanted to do this slow, in the bed, slow and gentle, and naked, god I wanted you naked…”

She laughed, and met his thrusts with a roll of her hips. “We have all the time of the world for slow and gentle, Robert. Hard and fast on the kitchen table is what I want right now…” She groaned again when he pounded into her and tickled her clit with his fingertips. Her heat was driving him mad, her sweet moaning, her scent. “Kiss me”, she panted, and he bent down to take her lips. She bit him, scratched him when she pulled him closer, closer, as if she wanted him to crawl under her skin, deeper, dug her heels into his back and grabbed his ass, as if she was determined to never let go of him again. Not that he intended to ever let her go again.

“Oh god, Belle, marry me”, he rasped with his next thrust, as her muscles clenched around him in her climax and pulled him over the edge. His own orgasm blinded him for a moment, and he collapsed on top of her, burying his face in her hair, breathing her in, shaking and absolutely sure that his legs would give out if he tried to stand on them. It took him a while to realize what he just said. And to realize that she had not answered.

“Belle?” he asked, lifting his head to look at her. Her forehead was creased in confused wrinkles, her brows knitted together, and she was biting her lip. She looked as if she was torn between crying and running.

“Do you know what you just asked me?”

Oh god, she thought it was an accident. He raised himself up, pulled her with him, helping her to arrange her clothing. He ignored his own half dressed state, with his pants pooling around his ankles and his tie hanging loose.

“Of course I do.” He didn’t repeat his question, though. He didn’t want to beg. And he already knew that he had done it wrong. She deserved a real proposal, with a romantic dinner, flowers, and a ring. Not one with him between her legs while she was spread out on a kitchen table.

“Well…did you think about what you just said?”

She thought he didn’t mean it. Oh sweet heaven. “I did.”

Belle hopped from the table and grabbed his shoulder for support. “Don’t you think it’s a little too soon?”

“A simple _no_ would do, if that’s what you’re trying to say.” He stepped back and pulled up his pants. He wanted at least look halfway decent when he was turned down. He could not look at her, not look at her rejection. His hands were trembling, and he was almost incapable of closing his belt. He flinched when Belle put her hands over his and helped him. He looked away, not willing to meet her eyes. Not willing to look at her, her tousled hair, her skin glowing from their exercise on the table, her eyes glinting with tears, because he had ruined it. He couldn’t shut out the way she smelled, or the way her fingertips felt on his skin when she touched his cheek. She started to fix his tie, and he longed to press his face into her hair, to feel her curls on his skin.

“I don’t. Want to say no. I don’t.” He almost didn’t hear her, because she whispered into his shirt. “I want to say yes, but I’m afraid you will come to your senses and realize you’re making a mistake. And I don’t want to live through that heartbreak.”

“Oh Belle.” He pulled her into his arms, and now he pressed his face into her hair, and felt her shiver in his arms. “Belle, I love you. I know it’s fast, and crazy, but I don’t want to spend another day without you. I want to love you in my bed, and on the table, and the floor, and the grass in the garden, and I want to wake up with you beside me and I want to hear you laughing with Bae, I want to hear you scold me for my stupidity and my behavior, I want to fight with you and make up again…”

“Am I allowed to spank you?” she asked, with that teasing smile he first fell in love with when she was his nanny.

“You can do anything.”

“But, you know, we don’t have to marry to do all those things. Maybe we should start with moving in together.”

He smiled into her hair. It was not a yes, but it wasn’t a no either. “I’d like that”, he said, and kissed her. One day, he would get her to marry him.

And he did.

   

END

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Thank you for reading dearies. I wanted to wrap this up before Season 3 starts, but you can still send me prompts for this verse on [my tumblr](http://suchadearie.tumblr.com/). 


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